


The Hellsguard Hare

by Sforzie



Series: Three Kings and the Hellsguard Hare [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amaurotine Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Ascians (Final Fantasy XIV), But he's still Zenos, Combat Violence, Depression, Enemies to Lovers, Established Relationship, F/M, Female Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Flashbacks, Halone Help Me This Will Have a Happy Ending, Hey Zenos Did Not Consent to Being a Vessel, Idiot as a term of endearment, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Infidelity, Infidelity Doesn't Always End the Relationship, Lost Love, Marriage, Multi, Multi-Classed Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Named Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), POV Multiple, Past Lives, Penis In Vagina Sex, Self-Esteem Issues, Smut, Soul Bond, The Echo (Final Fantasy XIV), Unintentional Polyamory, Viera Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV) Needs Therapy, Warrior of Light is a Milf, Zenos yae Galvus Has Feelings, post 5.0 canon divergence, pre 5.3 lore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:48:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 44
Words: 213,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23031982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sforzie/pseuds/Sforzie
Summary: With the trials of the First completed, a weary Warrior of Light is ready to go home to her family. But the troubles she left behind on the Source are still waiting for her... namely, her dedicated hunter, Zenos yae Galvus.A new set of trials await the Warrior of Light as she struggles to keep the peace in Ishgard, her love life, and her self.[Shifting PoVs: Warrior of Light (Summer Ruby), Aymeric de Borel]---Ch 44: Ishgard, for now, is safe and sound, under the loving protection of the Warrior of Light.[[STORY COMPLETE]]
Relationships: Aymeric de Borel/Warrior of Light, Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch & Warrior of Light, Zenos yae Galvus/Warrior of Light
Series: Three Kings and the Hellsguard Hare [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1985158
Comments: 158
Kudos: 238





	1. Home Sweet Home

The Warrior of Light sat upon the docks in Sullen, staring out at the water as the sun set and burned the sky through its evening colors. She sat, trying not to dwell too heavily on the thoughts and feelings that were picking voraciously at the forefront of her mind. She no longer wanted to dwell on what had happened here on the First. How long had it been now--days, weeks, months, it was hard to keep track when the sky never went dark and the compulsion to just stop and rest was so hard to come by. How many times had her friends among the Scions told her that she needed to stop and rest?

None of that really mattered now, she supposed. 

“Summer Ruby, I thought you were told not to leave the Crystarium.” A familiar voice chimed out behind her in the heavy evening air. She heard Alisaie’s boots clomp along the old wood as she approached.

“I can still see the Tower from here,” the warrior murmured and gestured off to their right.

Alisaie sighed, hands planting on her hips. “I suppose that’s true.” She looked around. “Why here? It smells like rotten fish.”

“It’s quiet. I needed some quiet.”

“Oh.” The little Elezen sat next to her, crossing her legs and resting her hands on her knees. “My apologies for the interruption, then.”

Summer Ruby looked down at the girl, and then shifted her gaze back out over the water. “You’re forgiven.”

They sat in quiet for a few minutes. Then Alisaie cleared her throat. “How are you feeling?”

She picked at the hem of her coat. “Still a bit burnt up and dead inside.”

The girl made an acknowledging noise. “Do you feel bad, for slaying the Ascian?”

 _The Ascian_ , she thought. _He had a name. He wanted that remembered. Did you forget already?_

“No, not really,” she lied. Alisaie nodded.

“I mean, you shouldn’t. He was a wicked man, doing wicked things. He did not care about anyone at all. He wanted to kill us all, just to bring back the past.”

Summer Ruby’s mind went back to that awful confrontation. So much of it was muddled, bleached bare by the Light in her mind, and she could not remember some specific details. But she still remembered, with painful clarity, his last words. Spoken just to her.

 _Remember. Remember us. Remember that we once lived_.

‘Us’. ‘We’. She knew that he meant the lost people of Amaurot, but it had felt, and still felt, so much more personal than that. And she had no way now of asking him what he’d really meant. She never would know. The uncertainty ate away at the parts of her that had not been already ruined by the Light.

She had not felt so ill, so absolutely gutted, since she had been pregnant--and at least something good had come of that. Of this--of this round of pain and suffering and death--she was not sure what good had come of it all.

Even now she felt unwell, but she hid it from the Scions. They had already worried about her too much, and for too long. She still felt as though her insides were cooking with the Light, even though Y’shtola had insisted her aether had gone back to normal. She did not tell them, because she was used to the pain now, and it would not kill her. If and when this pain faded from her body, it would be replaced by another fresh hell. That’s how it had gone now, over and over. She knew it would kill her eventually, and was not entirely sure that she ought not have died in blinding agony on the ground in front of Emet-Selch.

_What did I do to deserve this?_

After a few minutes of mutual quiet, Alisaie cleared her throat and looked up at Summer Ruby. “What will we do now?”

She stared up at the evening sky. “I don’t know about you, kiddo, but I want to go home. And I’m sure your body is missing you, too.”

“Home?” the girl echoed. Her eyes lit up, and she leaned in, bumping her bony shoulder into Summer Ruby’s arm. “Back to Ishgard, you mean?” She lowered her voice. “Back to see him and the _baby_?”

Alisaie was the only one she had entrusted that secret to, and even that had not happened until they had both wound up stranded here on the First. Summer Ruby had broken down into tears after watching that poor woman die and cry out for her mother as she became a sin eater. It had been enough to shake Alisaie out of her own doldrums and into a new stage of determination.

Summer Ruby allowed herself a smile. “Yes, back to him and the baby.”

She kicked her heels against the planks of the dock. “When do I get to meet the baby?”

“Someday.” Summer Ruby sighed. “Assuming no more time has passed there than here while we’ve been away, he’s still at the very small and boring stage of his life. Mostly sleeping and pooping.”

Alisaie wrinkled her nose cutely. “Well, I still want to see him.”

“Yes,” she said, tilting her head back as the stars came out. “So do I.”

  
  
Aymeric de Borel had just finally begun to slip into the peaceful release of sleep. So close, the warm, gentle embrace taking the day’s pains away--but then a loud, familiar knocking at his chamber door pulled the dark curtain from his senses. He cursed into his pillow.

Another knock, just as loud. “My Lord, I hate to disturb you at this hour…” The familiar voice of his steward came through the thick wood. Familiar, but tinged with a hint of uncertainty.

He pushed up enough from the bed to call out. “Yes, yes what is it?” He did not like the bite in his tone, but, _Hells_ , he was tired.

“My apologies, sir, but thy Lady has returned.”

Now he bolted upright, rolling onto his side and kicking back the covers. The motion stirred pain through his body, battle wounds never resting, but he ignored it as he stumbled to his feet.

“Just a moment!” he called. “Don’t let her leave!”

“Of course, my Lord.”

Aymeric pulled on his heavy housecoat and made for the door. He threw it open. The steward stood there, lamp in hand, the warm light highlighting the vaguely perplexed look on the older man’s features.

“Is aught amiss?”

“No, my Lord,” the steward said. “She is in your study.”

“Thank you. I shall call for you if you are needed.”

He hurried down the hall, paying little heed to the way the cold polished wooden floor nipped at his bare feet. The door to his study was indeed open, and he pressed his palm to the wood and pushed it enough for his own admittance.

She was there, perched on the edge of his desk, wearing the red coat he had come to associate with her, the one that was never warm enough for the Ishgardian weather. She was there, yes, but something was immediately amiss. He knew that the war was doing a number on his senses, but he was still quite certain that his dear Warrior of Light was a strapping, perpetually sunburnt Roegadyn woman who stood more than a head taller than him.

The rabbit ears were definitely not part of the usual package.

Not real ones, at the least. There were the ones she had procured during a drunken night at the Golden Saucer, but those had always been worn in jest or because she had lost another drinking bet against one of the Scions.

But, no, Aymeric was still certain that when he had last seen her before she disappeared some weeks ago, she had definitely not been a _Viera_.

“Summer Ruby?” He called as he entered the warm room. He was barely able to keep the uncertainty from his voice.

She stood, gaze shifting away from the fireplace. She smiled as she looked at him, but the look did not reach her eyes.

“Lord Commander,” she said. The voice was familiar--almost the same as he remembered. “I apologize for the lateness of the hour.”

“There’s no need for apologies,” he said. “You are all my hours.”

He stopped in front of her. He wanted to look up at her--he always had before--but as she was now they were nearly equals in height. Aymeric stared into her face, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. The wave of ruby red hair that framed the dark skin was the right shade. The mismatched eyes were in their proper places with the scar over the right--though the blue was darker than he recalled, and a peculiar pale streak had settled in the red. 

Aymeric lifted his hand to touch her cheek. Her skin was, as ever, unusually warm to the touch. Her head tipped into his touch as he pressed his thumb to the tip of the old bow scar that ended on her right cheek.

“It’s strange,” he said.

“It’s a very long story,” she said.

“I could have sworn you were taller.”

She stared at him for a moment before letting out a gasp of laughter. She rose up on her toes and pressed a kiss to his forehead. It was a familiar gesture, and whatever doubt the new appearance had stirred in his heart fled as her lips caressed his skin and hair.

“I’m glad you are returned, regardless of appearance,” Aymeric said. “You have the flair for dramatic departures.”

“I will tell you of it all in time.”

“I trust that you will.” He smiled. “I have so many questions, but my heart is gladdened to know that you are well and whole and here again.”

“I am,” she said. Her eyes were still sad, he thought. “I am glad to see you home safe from the battlefield.”

“For now,” Aymeric said. “But, do not fret over my injuries. They are mostly mended.”

“You continue to prove to be hard to kill, my Lord.”

He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. “Please, Summer, it is just us. You do not have dwell on the formalities.”

“Your steward is lurking about in the hallway.” Her ears drooped slightly. “I let myself in with my key, and he thought I was a robber or something. I said who I was and he went running off to fetch you.”

“He’s just dutiful to his job.” He kissed her again. “He’s just been staying overnight in case I needed something. I can send him away for the remainder.”

“No.” She leaned away and let out a faint sigh. “Let the man do his job.”

He looked at her. “Summer? What troubles you?”

She stared into the fireplace. Then her long ears--red as her hair--twitched in unison.

“Where is Merle?”

Aymeric smiled. “With the Nanny, of course.”

“I want to see him.” Still she looked away. “I’m sure Ser Mondblum will not mind the disturbance.”

“Of course. Let me get dressed.”

His Lady was impatient, more so than he remembered her being. Aymeric scarcely had time to put on boots and a proper coat before following her out into the frigid night. He had so many questions, but wasn’t sure the right order to ask them. What had happened to her when she disappeared? Why show up back here, now? Why the urgency to see the child? He could only wonder. He would just have to be patient, and in time he would have the opportunity to speak with her.

Barring, of course, another sudden outbreak of crisis in the realm or midnight resurgence of the war with Garlemald.

The Nanny, as Aymeric tended to jokingly call the fellow, was a retired dragoon knight turned tailor who dwelled not terribly far from the Borel manor. Orage de Mondblum was, by Aymeric’s reckoning, a reliable man, if not a bit peculiar. He had been kind enough to keep a roof over Summer Ruby’s head while she hid away from everyone else, and had continued to provide his support after the birth of her child. When Summer had been again called away in her duties as the Warrior of Light, she had placed the baby in the man’s care. 

Until such times, she had said ruefully, that she might be able to be a proper mother.

Aymeric could not begrudge her choice--his ever expanding position in Ishgard afforded him barely enough time to have a cup of tea by himself, let alone settle down and raise a family. The knowledge of the facts did not ease his heart over the matter. He wanted to be there for her, for them. He wanted to be supportive. He did _not want_ to be his father.

He said nothing of these thoughts as he knocked on the door. 

Despite the late hour, the blue-haired Elezen who answered the door was all smiles.

“Why, Lord Commander, it’s so good to see you this fine evening!” He held the door open wide, green eyes flicking to Aymeric’s companion. “And Lady Summer, you’re looking well. The ears are a nice touch.”

“Thank you, Ser Orage,” she said.

“Your little black bird has been abed a few hours now,” the man said as he led the way down the tight, dark hallway. “He’s a good boy, but I don’t think the aldgoat milk is agreeing with him.”

“I had the same trouble, at that age,” Aymeric said.

They were left alone in the side room. It was meant to be a guest room--there was a small bed there, but the rest of the space was presently occupied with a bassinet and other trappings for the infant.

For a moment, before moving to perch at the edge of the bed, Aymeric peered into the bassinet at the sleeping child. He wondered if his father had ever gazed upon him as he slept and felt the same sense of wonder and hope. The baby was so delicate and small, despite being half Roegadyn, and honestly looked no different from other Elezen children that he had seen over the years. But this, _this_ was why they had strove to end the war with the dragons. So that little children like this would never have to suffer as he and his brethren had.

Aymeric sat and watched as Summer Ruby leaned over the bassinet. For a long moment she just stared down into the crib, her eyes slightly unfocused, sadness creeping in around the corners of her face. He watched her and wondered and worried. He knew nothing of what had happened to her while she was gone--it only seemed to him that it had done a number on her psyche. What had happened to her? What had hurt her? _Who had hurt his wife?_

She scooped up the infant. The little one did not rouse, only fussed slightly in his sleep at the cool bedroom air. He clung instinctively to his mother’s chest as she held him close.

“He looks just like you,” she said, voice barely more than a whisper.

“Quite a bit, yes. Though, his eyes are still a darker blue.”

Her long nails combed lightly through the baby’s little fluff of black curls. “There’s no denying who his father is.”

“I would never deny him,” Aymeric said. “Nor would I deny you.” He hesitated, wondering if she had somehow forgotten what had gone on in private between them. “You-you remember that, don’t you? That’s why I asked to be your husband.”

“I remember.”

He was not expecting her to suddenly break down into tears. It was not her wont--even when she was wounded, even when she had witnessed Haurchefant slain in front of them--she was always one to grit her teeth against her misery and keep the tears to an absolute minimum.

But now she knelt on the floor and wept, child resting peacefully at her breast. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. She just shook her head, shoulders shaking. The child slept on, peacefully blanketed in the warm glow of his mother’s blessed aether.

All Aymeric could do was watch and worry.

Was this why she had come back to him tonight? Why she had wanted to go see their child so suddenly? Had she wanted to do this--to sit on the floor and cry? 

He waited until she had cried herself into stillness. Even then he was nervous to touch her--he did not know if she was in physical pain from some unknown hidden injury or illness. And on top of that, he knew his beloved’s physical strength was far greater than his own, and that, if startled, she could easily injure him without trying. So, he waited until she stilled, until the muscles in her back went lax.

Aymeric moved and sat next to her on the floor. He gently pressed his left shoulder to her right.

“My love, I am here for you. I will always be here for you, until I draw my dying breath. I do not know what troubles your heart, Summer, but I am here.”

“Oh, Aymeric. I know.” Her voice was thick from crying. “I know. I remember our vows. That is why I came back here. Why I came home.”

He felt a flutter of relief in his heart, and let out a soft sigh. “I was so worried when they reported you missing. Worried--nay, _frightened_.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I know. But that does not mean I do not yearn to protect you all the same. I am but a knight, first and foremost. Your knight now, my love.”

“My knight.” She tipped her head to look at him. “I am not ready to divulge to you what I’ve been through. I’m sorry.”

“It is alright. I will wait until you are ready to speak.” He smiled wistfully. “You do always have the best stories to tell.”

Her nails picked at the soft blue blanket that swaddled the baby. “Right now I feel broken. Like naught more than a broken vessel, pieced back together. Too cracked to be of use.”

He moved his hand to cover that of hers that was supporting the baby’s head. “That is okay.”

She sniffled noisily. “I do not feel okay.”

“Is there aught I can do for you, to ease your pain?”

She did not respond. Aymeric thought, trying to conjure up something that might make his wife happy.

“How about this: Tomorrow I’ll reschedule whatever meetings I have, and we’ll pick up Merle and do something together. Just the three of us.” He smiled at the thought of it. “Just a family.”

“It’s a nice idea,” she said. 

“But?”

“But, you seem to forget that the Fates work overtime to prevent us from having any real personal time together.”

“You’re exaggerating,” he said in protest. “Well, slightly exaggerating. I mean, we did find time to conceive a child.”

“Yes, and in order to be wed afterwards we had to do it in the middle of the night, with the doors to the church locked and Lucia posted outside to shoo the curious away.”

“It worked, though.”

She sighed, and her weight pressed against his. “It did.”

He stroked his thumb over the back of her hand. “How long do you think we have? I mean, before you’re called away again.”

“I don’t know. Would it be wrong of me to not want to answer a call, just once?”

“Perhaps. I oft wonder the same thing, myself. But, I cannot shirk my duties as Lord Commander, as the leader of my people.” He considered his words. “Of _our_ people. You are Ishgardian now, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I suppose so.” She turned her hand over and pressed their palms together. “I am home, here.”

He smiled. “Yes. Yes, my love. You are home.”


	2. Mother Hare and the Hunter

Aymeric would not hesitate to admit that he was glad for Summer Ruby’s return to Ishgard. Even though something melancholy still dwelt in her expression, something she was not yet ready to talk to him about, her presence still brought him immeasurable peace and contentment. He had slept well that night, arms wrapped around her, face pressed into her neck. The next day, Aymeric kept to his word from the evening before and told Lucia to reschedule his business for the day. It hadn’t been much--just a commerce discussion and more talks about the reconstruction efforts. Things that could wait a day. They gave Ser Mondblum a temporary leave of babysitting duty and took Merle home to the Borel manor.

It started snowing during lunch, and so the pair decided to stay home for the remainder of the day. They whiled away the afternoon hours in the dining hall, seated side by side at the big old table. Aymeric read from a tome that Summer Ruby selected from his study, until his voice tired out and he had to stop. His wife picked up the talking task after that, regaling him for an hour with tales of the ways Alphinaud had embarrassed himself since last they had seen each other.

After a quiet dinner and tending to the baby, Summer Ruby announced her need for cleansing and disappeared into the bathroom. Aymeric was initially content to leave her to her privacy, but after a few minutes of paging through his notes for his postponed meetings, he realized that he had not actually _seen_ all of his wife’s new form. As he had been quite intimately familiar with her as a Roegadyn, this seemed like an awful oversight on his part.

He rapped his knuckles on the door before pushing it open. “Are you alright?”

“Of course,” came the drowsy reply. “Are you?”

Aymeric quickly closed the door behind him as to keep the warm, humid air inside. “Ah, yes. I was just--um--” He stopped, blushing as his eyes hit the long red ears and then traveled downward. “To be honest, I was just curious.”

“About what, dearest?”

“Well, I mean, you’re a Viera now… So you look different.”

She sat up in the tub, and he struggled to keep his gaze on her face and not look lower. “I’m aware the package is different, Aymeric. I’ve spent enough time getting used to it. But, it’s still me.”

He dragged the stool from the dressing table over to the tub and sat. “I still think you’re beautiful.”

She reached up, brushing damp fingers along his jaw. “I wasn’t really worried that you would think differently.”

Aymeric leaned into the touch. It was as he remembered--firm and yet delicate, aware of its own strength, restrained and yet filled with such abundant affection in such a simple gesture. He sighed happily. “My sweet Fury.”

“My noble knight.” Her lips pressed to his. “You still look the same to me, if it’s any comfort. Perhaps a bit taller than you used to be.”

He smiled. “A change I am willing to accept.” He stared into her eyes, the right sapphire blue, the left ruby red. There was still a strange mark on her left eye, a small yellow streak, as though a bit of sunlight were trying to escape. He thought of how she had looked before. “Does your sister know about this?”

“I haven’t spoken with Winter Sapphire in years,” Summer Ruby said. Her tone was dismissive. “You know that. I doubt she’s even aware that when people refer to the Warrior of Light, they mean me.” She shrugged, and Aymeric was briefly distracted by how the motion dislodged a damp lock of red hair that tumbled and curled along the line of her breast. He looked back to her face.

“Is she still at Costa del Sol?”

Another shrug, and his wife sunk back into the water. “Probably? No idea. That old tiny pervert there pays his dancing girls well.”

“I’m sorry,” he said hurriedly. “I didn’t mean to strike a nerve.” He knew little about his wife’s twin sister, just that they had not parted on the best of terms when last they spoke.

Summer Ruby looked away. “It’s alright.” She held out a hand toward him again. “This is home now, Aymeric.”

He pressed his cheek into her palm. “I am glad for it.”

“As am I.” She leaned against the side of the tub. “I missed you, you know. While I was gone. And before that.” Her tongue flickered out and across her lower lip before disappearing again. “It’s been a long time since we… Well, since we could, honestly.”

“Ah. I have missed you too, in both the literal and carnal senses.” And he did. Eventually, far into her pregnancy, she had no longer felt comfortable being intimate. And after childbirth, she had been in no condition to have sex.

And then she went off to war again.

“Do you think you’re, um, physically up for that?”

Her gaze settled on the surface of the warm water. “I’m quite sure.”

“I just, I don’t want to hurt you.” He leaned in and stroked a finger along the fuzzy edge of her ear. She let out a squeak and shivered.

“Ah, Aymeric, they’re sensitive!”

He smiled. “Good to know.” He looked into the water, taking in the dark squirm of skin that was visible below. “If you would like, I could give you a more thorough inspection.”

“Now, Lord Commander,” she said in a teasing tone. “If you stay up late giving me a thorough inspection, you’ll likely oversleep and have to postpone your meetings again.”

He kissed her. “That is a chance I am willing to take.”

Aymeric did eventually return to his duties. When he did, it was to a spate of good-natured teasing from members of the House of Lords about their leader _dared_ to take two days of personal time. They were polite enough to not push past that, and all Aymeric had been willing to divulge was a cheeky admission of having gotten a lot of reading done. Which wasn’t a lie, not really, although on the second day most of that reading had been done in bed. And _that_ reading had been interrupted several times by his beloved’s wandering hands. Aymeric didn’t tell them that part, of course. He hadn’t wanted to cause too much of a stir amongst the old men.

Truthfully, his own presence had been overshadowed by the usually-absent Lord Mondblum having bothered to actually show up for his seat, and so their peers were focused more on chastising the retired knight than their leader. Aymeric mused that he might have to send the man a bonus on top of his usual pay for watching over Merle.

It was late in the evening, four days after Summer Ruby’s return to Ishgard, when a rapping sounded on the front door of the Borel Manor. Aymeric cursed under his breath at the sound--of course someone would come calling when he had already let the steward go home for the night. He was the only one left awake in the house. The baby was fast asleep in a guest bedroom, and Summer Ruby was asleep as well, brows pinched slightly together as though dreaming of something unpleasant. At the second round of knocking--five sharp raps in a row--he closed the tome he was reading and set it on the nightstand. Aymeric kissed his wife’s forehead, hoping to will away the bad dreams, and went to answer the door.

A third round of knocking. He was really going to have to petition to have a guard stationed outside his home during the night to stop these over late interruptions of his already limited peace and quiet.

He composed himself before releasing the locks and tugging open the door.

“Yes, who--”

Aymeric blinked and looked around. Outside, the street was silent, hushed by a lightly falling snow. Looking down at the white dusting of the paving stones, there were definitely scuffed steps leading up to the door.

But, no one was there.

He leaned a bit, not wanting to leave the warmth of the doorway, and looked around. No one at all. Puzzled and a bit disturbed, Aymeric closed the door and returned the locks to rights. He waited, wondering if perhaps the mysterious visitor would knock again.

Several minutes passed, but no further noise came from outside. 

A voice grated in the hall behind him: “My, Lord Commander, you are quite easily led to foolishness.”

Aymeric managed not to cry out in alarm as he whirled to face the speaker.

A very tall and broadly shouldered man stood there, seeming to fill the entire space with his presence. He was wearing a white and gold coat, and a length of golden hair cascaded over his left shoulder. A katana hung sheathed on his left hip. The face the man wore sent a chill down his spine. It was that of Zenos yae Galvus--or, at the least, someone wearing his face. The man had been dead for some time now, should have still been dead. Why was he _here_?

“Lord Galvus,” Aymeric managed to get out. “What are you doing here? How did you get in?”

“I let myself in,” the man said, corners of his mouth pulling briefly in amusement. 

“Yes, but why?”

Zenos half turned and looked down the nearly dark hallway. “I heard word that my quarry has finally returned to her den, and so I have come looking for her.”

Aymeric remembered, still quite vividly, Summer Ruby’s somber stories of her dealings with the Emperor’s son, and of the man’s death. He knew well of the man’s obsession with a hunt. Aymeric pushed his way past the other man, trying to place himself between Zenos and the rest of the house.

“Your hunt has no place here in Ishgard, Lord Galvus.”

“Ah, but it does. I am quite certain of this. I am ever so hungry for the hunt, but even I know that it would be foolish to get between a mother bear and her cub.” The prince’s tone remained flat, even as a smirk played at the corners of his lips. “But, the beast’s mate is another story entirely.”

Aymeric did his best to suppress the frown that was born from the other man’s words. How could have Zenos known such things? He wondered if he would have time to grab his own sword.

Zenos’s armored fingers rested lightly on the hilt of the katana that hung at his waist. The smirk deepened, cracking his features and etching his face with delighted malice.

“Oh, come now, Lord Commander. Just because you are mere savages does not mean that I remain unobservant.”

He gritted his teeth. “She is not here now. She is not in Ishgard.”

Zenos stared down at him, right brow cocking slightly in the faintest gesture of doubt and amusement. “Is she not? I tracked her to this city--tracked her to _your_ front door, Lord Commander--and have not seen her depart.”

“Then, perhaps death has sullied your tracking skills.”

Zenos’ fingers flexed upon the hilt. Aymeric wondered how far he could get before he was cut down. If he survived this, he was going to have to start staying armed even when he was in the privacy of his own home.

“Perhaps it has. Perhaps we shall have to test that out.”

Aymeric could only hope that if he stalled long enough, perhaps the crazed man would get bored and leave. He kept his voice as low and calm as he could muster, desperate not to wake Summer Ruby or the baby. That would give up the game and then they would all be dead. He was willing to sacrifice himself for her--he had made that oath to Halone.

“Tell me, Lord Galvus. Why are you so obsessed with my wife? It borders on indecency.”

“I care not for your decency, Elezen.”

“Tell me, then.”

Zenos stared at him again. 

Then: “She is my friend.” The words sounded bizarre coming from this man’s lips. “My only friend. And I am the only one who can truly understand her.”

Aymeric did not think that Zenos was capable of understanding any man, least of all his vibrant, heroic wife. 

Zenos stared at him with those monstrous, cold dead eyes. Every word from him was a challenge. 

“Certainly better than you, Lord Commander.”

He hoped that the other man could not see, could not sense how anger and touch of fear were making his bones quiver in his flesh. “And what would you do with her, should I fail to keep you from her?”

“Kill her,” Zenos said, unhesitating. “That is the point of the hunt.”

“You have yet to succeed in killing her,” Aymeric said in as neutral a tone as he could muster. “If anything, from what I have heard it has been quite the opposite.”

Something like a smile pulled at Zenos’ lips. “She is the most worthy of prey.” He squinted down at Aymeric. “And you are but a weak man with a weak, fragile body, who can do nothing more than rut with her like the animal you are. You do not offer her any challenge. You are not worthy of her time or energy.”

“She loves me,” he said.

“I do not care. That means naught to me.”

Zenos drew the sword faster than Aymeric could have anticipated. Swifter than an arrow loosed from its hold, the long blade flickered out and struck him.

Aymeric realized, as he hit the floor at the man’s boots, that he had been struck by the flat of the blade. It still hurt like hell, though, and he shuddered as pain coursed from the point of impact. He dug his nails into the floorboards, but he did not dare move. 

“Call for her.”

He clenched his teeth, keeping his face turned to the floor. He could not do that, could not betray her like that.

“Call her out, or I will kill you, and then every person in this frozen wasteland.”

He shook his head. He could feel the other man’s presence, feel as he shifted his weight to loom over him.

“If she truly loves you, there is no need to go for the noble death. She will forgive your sins.” Aymeric felt the point of the sword come to rest along the line of his right ear. “Now, call her out.”

He swallowed back a hiss of pain as the blade slowly dragged.

“Your _wife_ , Lord Commander. Call her to me. Bring her to me. Bring me Summer Ruby.”

Aymeric had been through worse. He would withstand this bit of pain. He had no idea if Zenos was one for torturing his victims, or if death would be swift. He feared it was the former.

“I cannot.”

Zenos leaned in closer. “What?”

He sucked in a breath, hoping the other man did not see the tear that escaped to streak down his nose. “I cannot. I will not.”

“So be it.” The blade pulled away from his skin. He waited for it to return.

There was a soft, sharp gasp far down the length of the hall.

“Zenos yae Galvus!” His wife spat the name out, not in a tone of anger or disgust, but with the voice of a weary mother who was scolding a child that snuck out after its bedtime. “What are you doing?”

From the floor, Aymeric could not see the other man’s face, but the shift in his voice was obvious. It buoyed out of him, sounding nothing less than casually delighted.

“My blessed beast! I knew he was hiding you somewhere. I tracked you here.”

He struggled to his feet while Zenos was distracted. Summer Ruby was stalking down the hall, still garbed only in her bedclothes and house blue dressing gown. Her expression was tired and pinched, but not angry. She stopped in front of him, not Zenos, and quietly murmured as she checked him for injuries. Her words were comfort and yet caution-- _let me handle this._ At finding the cut on his ear, she frowned and shifted her gaze to Zenos.

“You were going to torture him?”

“No,” Zenos said. “I was going to kill him.” 

He felt the soft flutter of a healing spell on his ear, and then her warm fingertips pressed to his cheeks.

“Are you alright, Aymeric?” Her voice was gentle.

“I’ve had worse,” he said with forced lightness. “Didn’t want to wake you.”

“You’re an idiot sometimes.” She kissed him and released her grip, again looking to the massive blond man lurking only ilms away. “What are you doing here, Zenos?”

“I wanted to see you,” he said. “I wanted to see where my prey was hiding, to see what was keeping her from the hunt.”

She looked up at the intruder. Her profile was somber and unreadable to Aymeric, though he noticed a faint tremble of motion in her long fuzzy right ear. He was certain Zenos would have seen it as well, and it made Aymeric nervous.

“Do you really want to know?” She spoke softly now.

“My blade itches for your blood,” Zenos said through gritted teeth. He paused, and Aymeric saw the muscles of his jaw work. “Yes. I want to know.”

“Put your sword down, and I will show you.”

Zenos stared at her, jaw working again. Then, to Aymeric’s baffled amazement, Zenos dropped the katana. It rang briefly on the cold floor before falling silent.

Summer Ruby nodded, and led the way down the hall. Aymeric brought up the rear, dread pitting cold in his stomach as he realized where he was heading. _No, not there_ , he thought. Not to where the baby was sleeping.

She stopped in the doorway and brought a finger to her lips. Zenos nodded.

Aymeric watched, feeling helpless, as she lifted their child from where he slept. The baby, ever the good well resting sort, did not stir as she cradled him in her arms and turned to look at Zenos. The other man flinched away at the sight of the infant, pale blue eyes going from the miniature elf to her face and then back again.

“Sit, Zenos,” she said. “It is late, and I am _tired_.”

She sat in her usual spot. He said nothing, just stared at the baby as he pulled another heavy wooden seat closer and sat. Obedient as a hunting hound, Aymeric thought. He could not explain the strange sway that his wife had over the man.

“So the rumors in the Capitol were true,” Zenos murmured. “The Warrior of Light did disappear for six months to have a child.”

“Some rumors have a seed of truth to them,” she said.

Zenos stared down at the infant. “He’s very small, isn’t he?”

“He’s just a baby, Zenos.” Her tone was tired and chiding. “Surely you’ve seen a baby before?”

“Not on purpose.”

They were quiet for a long minute. Summer Ruby gently stroked the baby’s hair. The something cold lumped in Aymeric’s belly threatened to overtake him as he stood, trapped in the doorway, watching the scene unfold. He watched as the prince’s hand reached out and carefully pushed a red curl of hair away from Summer Ruby’s face.

“Are you well, my prey? Fit and fine for the fight?”

For a long moment she did not respond. Her fingers had stilled in the baby’s hair. She did not look at him.

Then: “No, I am not.”

Zenos’ tone was thick with doubt. “You look physically sound enough.”

“Perhaps,” she said. “But I am not fit to play chase right now, Zenos. My heart would not be in the fight.”

He made a disappointed noise and leaned in. “I would not hunt you with a wounded spirit. There is no pleasure in that.” Aymeric had to strain to hear as the other man lowered his voice. “Is there aught I can do to assist in thy recovery? Perhaps drive a sword through your Lord Commander’s breast?”

“Do not make threats upon my family.” Her tone was flat, but Aymeric was not fooled by it. He knew his wife well enough to know she was struggling not to rise to the prince’s bait. She always tried to hide her temper from him, even though he had fought by her side enough times to see her rage break out on the battlefield.

But now, baby in her arms, she was dangerously docile.

He felt a thrill of fear as Zenos’ hand moved. The long, calloused fingers brushed against Summer Ruby’s, resting briefly in the black curls that crowned the baby’s head.

“Thou art a mother,” Zenos said. “I should have guessed as much. When earliest I fought you, I should have seen that was the cause of your lacking. Your body was still recovering, was it not? Bearing a child amongst these savages is a fierce fight on its own."

“Women have done better with less,” she said. “But, yes. I was still recovering.”

Zenos held out his other hand toward the child. “Might I?”

“No.”

He withdrew his hand, plainly admonished. “What is his name?”

“Merle. Merle de Borel.”

Zenos’ voice was soft as he spoke. Almost gentle, Aymeric thought. Almost kind, lacking its usual threatening undercurrent. “Merle de Borel, it is my honor to meet you. Your mother is my most treasured enemy and prey.”

Aymeric flinched at the words. That was a fucking bizarre and inappropriate statement to make to a child, even if the infant was too young to understand and too asleep to actually hear the words.

“He is asleep, Zenos,” she said.

“Yes. Of course.” He leaned away now, but his cold eyes did not leave the form of the slumbering child. “I do not remember my mother. My great-grandfather had her executed shortly after my birth. Such was his contempt for my father.”

He had thought his own parentage problematic. Aymeric wondered what in the seven hells was wrong with the royal family of Garlemald. 

Something flickered across Summer Ruby’s face, but Aymeric did not know what to make of the motion. Had it been directed towards someone else, he would have thought it was an expression of regret.

“Solus zos Galvus,” she said.

“Yes,” he said. “Good, you remember the names of your enemies.”

“Emet-Selch,” she said.

Zenos grimaced. “That as well. Yes. I take no pride in being part of that madness.”

Aymeric watched, curious, as Summer Ruby leaned over and whispered something into the man’s ear. Zenos’ brows rose briefly before settling in a low line again.

“I would expect nothing less from you.”

She tipped away from him again, drawing the child more tightly in her arms, nearly smothering him against her breast.

“You need to leave now, Zenos,” she said. Her tone was flat and almost an echo of Zenos’ own usual intonation. “You are an enemy of the people of this land, and you do not have my permission to stay in Ishgard.”

Aymeric expected the other man to sneer in protest and defiance of her statement. He expected Zenos to mock her words and threaten her.

Zenos stared at her, expression beyond Aymeric’s capacity to read.

Then he tipped his head forward in plain acquiescence. “Of course. As the hero of this realm and Lady of the Lord Commander of the state, I am obliged to do as you desire.”

“Just go, Zenos.”

He stared at her again before rising from his seat. His hand extended and rested briefly, lightly, on the patch of red hair between her long ears.

“Rest thy spirit, then. I would have you at your best next time we meet.”

She said nothing, and turned her face away.

Zenos’ countenance was cold when he turned to the doorway. Aymeric bristled instinctively at the man’s approach.

“I can see myself out,” the taller man said. 

Aymeric frowned and moved out of the doorway. “Do not come here again.”

Zenos gave a dismissive sniff as he pushed past. “That is not for you to decide.”

Aymeric followed the man back down the hall. Zenos paid him no heed as he retrieved his katana from the floor, and then disappeared in a swirl of black and violet energy. Thoroughly rattled, Aymeric continued to the door and made sure it was securely bolted before returning to the room where Summer Ruby still quietly sat. He felt half compelled to have a priest come to his home and bless the place to free it from that monster’s influence.

She had set the baby down in his bassinet, and was staring down at the sleeping child. Aymeric felt a flutter of love and affection in his breast when he looked at her, as he always did. But this time it was accompanied by something else, something dark and anxious and possessive. He did not like this new feeling.

“You were wise not to stand up to him,” she said as he lingered again in the doorway. “It would have only given him cause to strike you down.”

“I didn’t do it for myself,” he murmured. 

He wasn’t sure what to say. He wanted to chastise her for permitting their enemy to get so very close to them, to her, to the baby. But then, he could have said something, could have protested. He hadn’t.

So he said the next dreadful thing that crept into his mind.

“Did something… happen, between you and the Emperor’s son?”

The corners of her mouth twitched downwards in a grimace. “Nothing of what you’re thinking.”

“He is intent upon you in a way that makes me uneasy.”

Aymeric watched as his wife exhaled in a heavy sigh and pressed her face into her hands. “Then at least your powers of observation have not failed you.”

He flinched at the bite to her words. “I’m sorry?”

Summer Ruby looked up, red brows drawn together, mouth open slightly open. She got up and rushed to the door. “Oh, Aymeric. No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean--I’m just so tired.”

“I worry for you, my love. For what that man wants of you.”

She took his hands in her own. “His only desire for me is a dance to the death, ending with me split upon his sword.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“I do. Zenos yae Galvus is not a man who takes any sort of pleasure from life. Only from fighting and death.”

Aymeric frowned. He knew his wife believed the words she was saying, but he had his doubts as to whether or not she was completely correct in her beliefs.

“He would kill me,” he said. “He would kill me, and kill Merle, and raze this entire city, just to get to you.”

“He didn’t tonight.”

She had an unfortunately fair point, but Aymeric was still uneasy at the thought that the blood-minded prince might come bursting back in at any time. He did not even know how far away Zenos had gone when departing in that sinister swirl of energy. 

“There’s always tomorrow,” he said.


	3. Sins of the Sons

Summer Ruby did not know how she could possibly explain the feelings that overcame her when she woke from a doze to find Zenos yae Galvus standing in the hallway, sword raised to strike her husband. She had been confused and furious in quick succession. She had also wanted to run to him, grab him by the shoulders and shake him and scream at him to please, _please_ tell her what in the seven hells was going on anymore. As though a man back from the dead would be able to answer her questions.

But Aymeric had been there, and the baby had been there, and she could not let Zenos hurt them. She had to play the right part that night, that of Lady Borel, of the protective mother. She could not let loose her rage and frustration at the man, lest those she loved be harmed.

And Zenos had been so, _so_ delighted to see her, it nearly broke her already weary heart. He had known it was her immediately, despite the change in her appearance. It was as though he, like his great-grandsire, was able to see the soul within her breast and know that it was _her_.

The prey might change its coat as the seasons changed, but it was still the prey. _His_ prey.

Summer Ruby also had no desire to admit the small thrill that had gone through her seeing the man whole again. Though he had been her enemy, he had not been wrong in his claims that they were alike. Aymeric could not understand the commonality between them. Aymeric was a protector, a knight, a simple and loving man who was not possessed of a fire in his veins that ate away at his soul. Not like Zenos. Not like her. When Zenos had taken his own life, some small part of her had indeed despaired. She was perhaps the only soul in the whole of the world who might have mourned the man. 

_Farewell, my first friend. My enemy._

He had died with a smile on his face. So had Emet-Selch. So had others. Why was that? The sudden question presented itself to her as she sat in the cathedral during the morning processional and she struggled not to dwell upon it.

“ _We raise our eyes to the Fury, and welcome the honor of dying for her. She raises the blade for us, so that we might protect the land…_ ”

Her ears hurt while she sat and listened to the morning prayers, as she had taken to wearing a hooded cloak that kept them pressed down and out of sight. She did not want to draw any additional attention to herself--what would the citizens of Ishgard think if they saw the Warrior of Light honoring the prayers to Halone? They would take it as another blessing, like as not. She was half used to that now, being the inspiration of others, but honestly she just wanted the privacy to take the prayers in peace.

Well, as much peace as she could muster with an aching spirit and a head full of self doubt.

When the service was over, she waited for the small crowd of faithful to thin out and then left the cathedral. Summer Ruby looked up at the sunny sky and wondered what to do with the rest of the day. Aymeric would likely not be home until after dark, as was his wont on busier business days. Returning her gaze to the street level, her eyes happened upon a familiar figure, hideous lance strapped to his back, leaning against a balustrade. Her heart leapt at the sight of a friendly face, even if the face framed with gleaming white hair was etched with a grim expression.

“Estinien!” 

He looked up immediately, eyes darting to the sound of her voice. She pulled her hood down and gave a little wave, and he flashed a thin lipped smile.

“Well, look what the Fury has brought back to us,” Estinien said. He strode over to her and threw his arms around her in a hug. Face pressed against her forehead, he murmured: “Thy poor besotted husband was absolutely beside himself when word reached us of your disappearance. I’m glad to see you have returned to him safely, sister.”

“As am I.” She pulled away and looked up at him. “Why were you lounging about out here?”

He shrugged. “Just listening to the morning service.”

Summer Ruby knew the man well enough to know better than to ask why he had loitered outside rather than join the gathering inside. Noting the coat thrown over his armor, she said: “You’re dressed for travel.”

“Aye. Just returned from a bit of a mission I agreed to do for the Scions.”

“You don’t have things to do here at home?”

Another shrug. "One could say I was acting on thy behalf in your stead. That makes it Ishgard’s business.”

“Ah. Thank you, Estinien. What business was it?”

He shook his head. “Better that I don’t discuss it out here in public. I was planning on delivering news to our Lord Commander after the morning prayers. You are, of course, welcome to join me.”

She nodded. “I had no other plans.” With a smile, she added: “I’m sure Aymeric could use a little break from his work.”

They walked side by side, he with his arms crossed on his chest and chin tucked in slightly.

“So, a Viera?”

“Long story.”

He nodded. “It looks alright on you.”

Summer Ruby smiled. “Yes, Aymeric seems to be of a similar opinion.” 

They made their way down the winding steps from the Cathedral and to the lower levels of the city. Estinien bristled as they approached the Congregation of Our Knights Most Heavenly. A small gathering of knights was present outside the entrance to the building. She caught Estinien giving the surrounding rooftops a glance and grabbed at his elbow.

“Don’t you dare.”

“What? I wasn’t going to do anything.” He grimaced when she tightened her grip. “I’m glad to see your strength is undiminished.”

“Just smile politely and push past them, for heaven’s sake,” Summer Ruby muttered.

“What if they want to talk to me? I’ll have to fend them off.” He looked down at her. “And defend you as well, unless you’re hiding a dagger in your petticoats.”

“You’ll have to ask Aymeric about what’s in my petticoats.” She gave him a gentle shove toward the entrance. “Don’t be such a child.”

The former Azure Dragoon huffed softly and strode forward, Warrior of Light’s hand still in the crook of his arm. The gathered knights moved out of the way, and a few bowed politely and offered greeting.

“Good morrow, Lady Summer, we’re glad to see you here in the city again. We trust you’re keeping warm?”

“Thank you, yes, good Sers. Is the Lord Commander in his office?”

“Aye, just got back a short while ago from a meeting with the House of Lords.”

“Thank you.” She smiled and pushed Estinien through the front door. He made a quietly indignant noise.

“They didn’t even greet me.”

“Because you’re an antisocial paissa who rarely shows up for his duties to the See.”

Estinien grunted. “You’re starting to sound like him.”

“Aye, if he ever needs a sick day I’ll be able to step right in and no one will be the wiser.” She released the grip on his arm. 

Aymeric’s second-in-command was standing at the planning table. She was looking at the local map, but Summer Ruby knew that the woman had started watching them as soon as she herded Estinien inside.

“Good morning, Lucia. How’s business today?”

The knight looked up, looking from Estinien and them to the warrior. “As well as can be hoped. How fare you this morning, Lady--” Lucia stopped, a flummoxed look crossing her face. She lowered her voice. “I’m not quite sure how to address you at the moment.”

A fair enough problem, Summer Ruby mused. Was she here as the Warrior of Light, the hero of the realm, or Lady Borel? “Just my name is fine. I don’t need the titles tacked on.”

Lucia nodded. “If you are looking for the Lord Commander, he recently returned to his office. Complained of a headache, so he requested to have any visitors turned away.”

“Well, it’s a good thing we are not visitors,” Estinien said.

“Of course not, Ser.” Lucia gestured toward the Lord Commander’s office. “I’m sure at least one of you will be able to put a smile on his face.”

She patted the dragoon’s shoulder, and Estinien immediately turned on his heel and started for the doors. “We’ll see what we can do, Lucia.”

The taciturn woman offered a small smile. “Thank you.”

The Lord Commander sat in his office, eyes closed while he waited for the alchemist’s powders to work on the dull ache that had settled behind his eyes. Long, tiresome, argumentative meetings like the one he had just finished always gave him a headache, and this morning’s had been no different. He half wished another war would break out so he would have an excuse to lead the knights out onto the field again and get away from bureaucracy.

There was a gentle knock on the office door. He sighed and rubbed the heels of his gloved hands into his eyes. Hadn’t he told Lucia that he wasn’t taking visitors right now?

“Yes, come in,” he called, trying not to sound irritated.

The door clicked and opened. A pretty face peered into the opening, a gently apologetic smile on her lips. He smiled reflexively at the sight of his wife--not even a headache would be enough to make him turn her away. Then, the door swung roughly open to admit the other visitor.

“Estinien!” Aymeric rose to his feet at the sight of his old friend. “I’m glad to see you have returned from your venture safely. I had begun to grow concerned at the lack of updates.”

“Yes, well, mine was an eventful trip indeed.” Estinien closed and locked the door behind them. “I come bearing news, of course.”

“Yes, yes.” For a moment he was distracted by Summer Ruby’s approach to the desk. He was reminded of countless times in the past, when she stood at a respectable distance, quiet, road ragged, and usually just nodding in agreement while Alphinaud Leveilleur ran his mouth about whatever problem they were currently in the process of either resolving or exacerbating.

But now she was fresh faced and dressed up like one of the ladies of the high houses, a fond smile gracing her lips as she perched on the edge of his desk. Summer Ruby extended a warm hand and pressed it to his forehead, and he felt the pain there abate after the murmur of a healing spell.

“Thank you, love,” he said.

She applied a kiss to his forehead. “I found this dirty little fellow loitering by the cathedral. He insisted I show him where your office was.”

Aymeric could not help but chuckle at her levity in the face of Estinien’s grim countenance. “It was very kind of you to lead the poor soul here.”

The dragoon sighed and kicked his boot heel on the stone floor. “Please, let me know when you two are done.”

Her expression softened. “He said he has news of great import regarding the Garleans, but wouldn’t tell me anything. Wanted to wait until we got here.”

Aymeric considered his wife’s words and friend’s expression. “Whatever you need to inform me of, you can tell Summer Ruby as well.”

“I did not intend on denying her the information,” Estinien said. “I just don’t feel like repeating myself to excess.”

“Fair enough. Go ahead, then.” The close proximity of Summer Ruby was nearly distracting, and he pressed his hand to the back of hers. Despite the lack of gloves, her skin was still warm and welcoming. He kept his fingertips curled against the comfort as Estinien cleared his throat and began his report.

“I was sent by the Scions to the Garlean Empire, to continue investigations into the matter of Black Rose production, and to attempt to stop said production. During this work I ran into Gaius Baelsar, and as we shared a common goal, we agreed to work together. This led us eventually to the capital itself.”

“Ever the one for danger.”

“It was necessary.” The dragoon crossed his arms. “We made our way right into the imperial palace. A task that was arguably easier than it should have been, as someone had cut down the guards before we arrived.”

“Someone else infiltrated the palace?”

“In a fashion. Gaius and I arrived in time to intercept a disturbance that was occurring in the throne room. Someone had made their way there and attacked Emperor Varis.”

“What?” Aymeric half rose from his seat. “That’s impossible!”

“Likely the man thought much the same thing.” 

“Who was the attacker?”

“Zenos yae Galvus.”

“You mean Elidibus?” Summer Ruby said. “That was what word we had--that the Ascian was in control of his body.”

“That was what we thought as well. But Varis denied this. Said the Ascian had fled the scene at the arrival of the prince’s spirit in another carrier. We didn’t really know what to make of it--but it mattered not. Whoever the man was, he wasted little time in striking the Emperor down dead.”

A chill coursed down Aymeric’s back. “Emperor Varis is dead?”

“Assuming another one of those blasted Ascians doesn’t make use of his body, yes,” the dragoon said. “His son took an unhealthy amount of pleasure in slaying the man. And then he just disappeared when others showed up to see what all the noise was about.”

“Disappeared?” Summer Ruby shifted her weight and hopped off the edge of the desk.

“In the selfsame swirl of energy that you might see when an Ascian departs,” Estinien said. “Which makes me reluctant to believe entirely that it was the son and not an Ascian still in sway of the man’s body.”

Aymeric sank into his seat. He looked to the back of his wife’s shoulder, brain struggling to understand the knight’s words with clarity. Who had been the man that intruded upon the Borel manor two nights before? Had it been the dead prince reborn, or an Ascian still wearing his body like a festival costume? He had not thought to question the matter--Summer Ruby had been insistent that it was the real man, though Aymeric did not know how she would be able to tell.

And if it had indeed been the real Zenos yae Galvus, then the implications were even worse. What sort of man killed his father?

 _You are_ , he thought. It was an uncomfortable truth, that he had been directly responsible for the death of his own father. He might not have driven his own sword into the old man’s chest, but he still was responsible. 

_No, it was your bride who slew the man_. 

No, no, that had all been necessary. It had to be done to save Ishgard. His father had turned himself into a _primal_ , for Fury’s sake.

Who was to say, then, that the death of Emperor Varis was not also to some greater purpose? There was no way of knowing without asking the man who slew him, and Aymeric would be happiest if he never had to see the man face to face again in his life.

“Aymeric? Are you alright?” Estinien’s voice picked its way into his thoughts. He blinked and looked up from his desk. Estinien was giving him an inquisitive look, and next to him Summer Ruby had her head tilted to gaze in his direction. He couldn’t see her face, though.

“I--” He cleared his throat. “Yes. I am fine. That is just startling news.”

“Indeed. It was quite the alarming scene to walk into.” Estinien frowned. “One that Gaius and I were fortunate to escape from with our lives. All the same, regardless of who it was that put the Emperor to the sword, they have effectively put a stop to the Garleans’ plans for using Black Rose. For the time being, at least.”

“An unexpected blessing, then,” Summer Ruby said. “Even if it was from an unwanted source.”

“Aye.” Estinien scratched at his chin. “Truth be told, that is all the news I have to deliver. The death of Emperor Varis will surely be the most pressing news that anyone has to discuss for some time.”

“Thank you, my friend. I’m certain we would have received word from the Alliance in short order, but I am glad to be able to hear it from the source.”

The dragoon nodded. “I thought it better you heard it from me, and not the overzealous spymistress of the Scions.”

Summer Ruby snorted. “She just enjoys her work.”

“Yes, well. My duty is concluded, and I believe I’m going to go have a soak, since the Warrior of Light doesn’t approve of my hygiene.”

Aymeric allowed himself a smile when his wife barked out a laugh. “You’ve earned a bit of rest, my friend. Do indulge yourself.” He stood and held out his hand. After a moment, Estinien came over and gave it a shake. “And remember, you’re welcome to visit us at home if you’d like. You haven’t seen Merle in a few months, and I believe I need a more clinical opinion as to whether or not he is as adorable as I am biased into thinking he is.”

Estinien stared at him wordlessly, before finally squeezing his hand and flashing a smirk. “Yes, well, you are quite biased in that respect. I may have to come by for that much.”

“Get yourself some rest, Estinien,” Summer Ruby said. Estinien looked at her before flashing his usual grim smile.

“You do the same, warrior. You look tired.”

****  
  


_You have no idea_ , Summer Ruby thought as she watched the dragoon depart from the office. She fidgeted her hands at her hips, still not entirely used to not having a weapon on her at all times. Even when she had been safely ensconced in her room at the Crystarium, her weapons had still been within hand’s reach--just in case. 

That tendency had nearly got the Ascian stabbed in the eye with her rapier. As it was, he still ended up on the floor, her heel having caught him in the clavicle. He had taken hold of the offending foot, but his threats against its existence had been waylaid by him noticing her jewelry. Emet-Selch had teased her when he saw the ring on the chain around her ankle.

“Your husband keeps you on a chain like a pet,” he had said.

“No, I put the chain on myself.”

“Ah,” he’d said with a smirk. “A willing dog, then.”

She had put her hand on his face and shoved him away. “Bad dogs get put down, old man.”

 _Why think of that now_? She wondered, pressing a hand to the ring on its chain, now more securely around her neck. She did not have to hide it here in Ishgard, but the band was now too large for her finger. She could feel Aymeric’s gaze upon her, and turned to face him. He looked disturbed, much as he had two nights before.

“Are you alright? You look unwell,” she said.

“I don’t--I don’t know.” He rubbed his thumb at the pale patch of skin between his eyebrows. “You’re certain that the man who entered our home uninvited was the crown prince? Not some Ascian demon?”

She hesitated. There had been no doubt in her mind that night that it had definitely been the real Zenos yae Galvus, and not an Ascian sheep in royal clothing. But she did not know why she felt that with such certainty. It should have still been Elidibus, for all she had known. She had only recently returned to the Source, and news from Garlemald was not swift to reach them. She had just _known_ \--something had resonated between them, had told her the truth without her even having to ask for it. The Echo, perhaps, or whatever warped version of it Zeno possessed.

“I am certain, yes.”

“I envy your certainty.” Aymeric sighed, long neck stretching as he tilted his head back into his seat and scrubbed his fingertips into his hair. “But, I am not certain that Ishgard is in a condition right now to thwart overtures of war from the Garleans.”

“War?”

“More than like. Estinien was there when Emperor Varis was slain--like as much Zenos’ rapid departure left the finger of blame to point at the intruders who escaped. It will be seen as an aggression by Ishgard against the Empire.”

“Ah. Perhaps so. Has there been any other news related to this?”

“No. Estinien’s has been the first word to reach us. Well, aside from our unwanted visitor.”

She felt a twinge of guilt in her breast. “I’m sorry, Aymeric. If I were not here, Zenos would have had no cause to come and pose a threat to Ishgard.” 

“You’ve no need to apologize, my love. I’d rather have you here than not, even if that monster comes sniffing for you.”

She frowned. “That’s easy for you to say when he doesn’t have a sword raised over your head.”

He sighed again. “Forgive my bravado. ‘Tis born of anxiety.”

Anxiety that she caused, Summer Ruby thought. She pressed her hand to his cheek. “If the Garleans come to Ishgard, they will have to deal with me.”

“That’s a bigger threat than you might know,” Aymeric said. “But, one that does bring me some comfort.” He removed a hand from his mussed hair and slid it down to cover her own. “You will not fight alone, my love. If war returns to Ishgard, I will fight by your side.”

“Oh, Aymeric.” She could not tell him that she would rather he stay safe and away from the battlefield. She knew he was highly skilled in combat, but still worried about him--he did not have the Echo or any other of Hydaelyn’s gifts to protect him.

He pulled her hand to his lips and kissed the pads of her fingers. “I’ll try not to be home too late tonight, alright? I only have a few more matters to tend to in the afternoon.”

“You do as you must, love. I will be waiting for you.”

Summer Ruby made her way back to the Borel manor alone, with only her thoughts to occupy her. She thought of the news that Estinien had bore back with him. The death of the Emperor did not strike her as hard as it might other members of the Alliance. She had no pity for the man, even though from what she had heard by way of Emet-Selch, Varis had not had the best lot in life. A pity that a crown prince should be raised with no love, with only half-veiled contempt from his kin. But not enough for her to feel bad for his passing. He was just as guilty of familial sins as his grandfather--his monstrous son was proof of that. But then, she had doubts that anyone of Ascian descent would have any hope of normalcy.

It was bound to happen one day, she decided. If Zenos had not killed his father, then some other assassin would have eventually managed to do so. Varis zos Galvus had been just another mortal. An important person, certainly, but as his own grandsire would have dismissively said--just another pointless and empty fraction of a real person.

The steward greeted her upon her return to the manor. He had, to his credit, quickly gotten over the Lord Commander’s chosen suddenly having become a Viera.

“Little lord Merle is resting in his chambers,” the steward announced. “Quite the heavy sleeper, much like his father was at that age.” He held out two missives. “Mail arrived for the household. Two pieces for you today.”

Summer Ruby broke the seal on the first as she made her way to Merle’s bedroom. It was a cheerful and polite letter from Tataru, wishing that the Warrior of Light would find the time to come back to Revenant’s Toll and make herself seen at the Rising Stones. For a chat, if nothing else. That felt like a trap to get her back on some busy work for the Scions, and as she was not yet ready for such ventures, she folded the missive shut once more and tossed it aside.

Little Merle was indeed still asleep in his bed, his tiny chubby fingers latched firmly onto a teething toy. She stroked her nails lightly through his black hair, mentally chastising herself for not being a better mother to the child. _This is all a brief respite_ , she thought. _You will have to leave him again soon. They are already calling for you_.

A frown on her lips, she broke the thin length of cord holding the second missive shut. It was a brief note, written in a very neat and precise handwriting that she did not recognize. It was no one from the Scions, nor her family, or anyone else she knew offhand. 

“ _I am in the woods outside of the snowline. Near the bluff, not so far to float. Come alone. Any who accompany will not be permitted to keep their lives. Do not make me wait._ ”

It was unsigned, but Summer Ruby had her suspicions as to who had penned the note.

Her only question was-- _why_?


	4. A Guilty Party

Early the next afternoon Summer Ruby put on her combat gear for the first time since returning to Ishgard. The worn black leather and red linen fit as it should, and she felt a comfort when she finished lacing up the top and looked at herself in the mirror. She attached her rapier and focus to her hip.

“Warrior of Light, reporting for duty,” she said to the mirror. The woman in the glass looked back at her with a weary expression. She leaned in and peered at herself, wondering at the scar that had appeared on the red iris of her left eye after she returned from the First. An infection of some sort? She did not know, and it did not hurt, so for now she would just have to continue to treat it as a cosmetic annoyance and hope it didn’t get worse. She pressed her hands to her face and mushed her cheeks. Everything would be less worrisome if she did not look as tired as she still felt. Even though she was getting more sleep now than she had the luxury of in months, she was starting to get annoyed because she was not feeling any _better_.

No matter. Today she had a greater issue to deal with than her own fatigue.

Summer Ruby read the unsigned letter again, one last time, before tossing it into the fireplace. She had spent much of the previous evening mulling over the words on the letter, and ended up having to pull a few maps out of her travel pack before narrowing down where she suspected the letter’s writer wanted her to go.

She had already taken the time to forewarn the steward of her departure, and after spending a few minutes watching her son try to eat his own hand, she headed on her way.

The faint tingle of the aether coursing through her body was familiar and comforting as she appeared on the docks of Fallgourd Float. It was fairly quiet, the air stirred by the quiet creaking of insects and the murmur of the water below her feet. She headed west from the Float, toward the slopes and tangle of thick vines and broken trees and giant mushrooms that lined the bluffs. In the distance, past the bluffs, she could make out the silhouettes of the Coerthan skyline. Home was not that far away.

She slowed cautiously as she neared the bluffs, eyes scanning the lengthening shadows. A few beasts milled about, but nothing that was of any concern to her. She was reminded of when she had come here so long ago, before ever first traversing into the lands of Ishgard. Fresh and less skilled and at the mercy of the same beasts that now ignored her. The distant cold sky over Coerthas had, at the time, been both mysterious and a little worrisome to her. Now it gave her a bit of comfort as she crept down the slope.

The beasts were avoiding an area. A collection of fallen stumps and trees that had been severed in half, most likely in the last calamity. It seemed innocuous enough, but it also reeked of a trap. Words of the dead, of Emet-Selch, came to her thoughts, chiding her recklessness and telling her to just _stop_ and pay attention. So she did, stopping, straining to hear or feel anything out of place.

 _There_ \--he was there, standing in the shadows, still as a stone. Once she was aware of him he was unmissable, and she could feel the heat of his gaze locked upon her. She held out a hand, willing a bit of aether into her palm. The gentle blue glow gleamed on his eyes and on the blade of the sword in his right hand. She curled her fingers shut at the sound of a chuckle floating to her from the darkness.

“My prey grows more clever. This is pleasing news.”

Her hand went to the hilt of her rapier as Zenos stepped out of the darkness. His gaze followed the movement. To her surprise, he moved his right hand and re-sheathed his sword.

“I will stay my blade, if you should provide me with the same courtesy.”

After a moment of consideration, she lowered her hand to her side. Her muscles stayed ready and tensed, prepared for battle. She remained tense as Zenos moved closer, stopping only when they were in striking range of each other.

“You came alone,” he said, voice unnervingly calm. “Good. I did not want anyone to interrupt us.”

She swallowed. “I did not come here to fight you, Zenos.”

“And yet you still came armed.”

“So did you.”

Zenos smirked and tipped his head to the side, eyes slowly travelling down her front. “You should know well and full by now that I do not need a weapon to be dangerous.” He chuckled. “But then, much could be said the same for you, yes? We are still one and the same.”

She could not help but bristle at the veracity of his words, and her ears twitched. “We are not, and you know it.”

“Say what you like.” His eyes went to her ears. “I like this new look of yours. Better befitting of prey.”

“If you knew aught of the Viera you would know they would be low on your list of prey species,” she said.

“Perhaps. It is less of a list and more of a straight line. All are equal.” He chuckled. “All except for you, of course.”

“Why did you summon me here, Zenos?” she asked. “If it was not to draw me into another battle, then what?”

“Mm.” Zenos turned away and paced a few yalms away to the trunk of a fallen tree. The bottom of his white coat flared out as he sat, exposing the deep maroon armor he was wearing underneath. A dark leather pack rested on the ground next to the trunk. Had he been here long, waiting since the day before? She was unwilling to ask--the casual presence of the man was somehow worse than him standing right in her face.

“Don’t ignore me.”

“I’m not,” he said. “Tell me, beast. Why do you shy from the hunt? What is holding you back? Who do I need to kill?”

The predictable absurdity of his train of thought still startled her. “Killing someone isn’t always the solution to a problem, Zenos,” she said, swallowing back a laugh. He gave a disbelieving snort.

“Of course it is.”

“No.” Now she did let out a truncated laugh. “In fact, it often causes more problems than it solves.”

He looked at her. Doubt was in his tone when he spoke again: “Perhaps our definitions of ‘problem’ vary, then.”

“That seems more likely than not.” She studied the man, trying to make sense of him, even though she knew full well there was little sense to be had. How did you make a plea for sanity from a man who did not live as others did, did not feel as others did, whose whole world was boiled down into a single lust for power? In times past she had found it almost enviable--to not be such a slave to one’s emotions, and to be able to be so singularly focused on the task ahead. But, no, even the Warrior of Light was still just a normal, feeling person with similarly normal and feeble emotions driving them on to their doom.

“You’re thinking,” Zenos said.

“Does that bother you?”

“No. Tell me what dwells in your mind, so that we can focus back on more important matters.”

Summer Ruby took a few steps closer to where the man sat, and forced herself to look into his eyes. They were calm and bored, and yet all their intent and purpose was honed solely on her. 

She swallowed, and decided to simply take the plunge of truth. “We received word in Ishgard that your father was recently slain, and the Empire is tumbled in chaos and civil war once more.”

“Ah, yes.” He shrugged his broad shoulders. “I cut him down.”

“You what?” The fact that he would so casually admit to patricide did not surprise her as much as she thought it should.

“I cut him down. I had to. He was going to blight the whole of Eorzea.” He held his right hand out toward her, reaching but not grasping. “I could not permit him to do so. I care not for the rest of this forsaken continent, but I could not permit him to kill you as well.”

“Oh.” She tried to understand his corrupted logic. “He was getting in the way of your hunt--trying to steal your prey from you.”

Zenos flashed his teeth as he smiled. “Yes, that’s right.”

“So, you killed him and just… left?”

“I left, yes. There had been rumors of you returning from your misadventure elsewhere, and I needed to find you before anyone else did.”

She found it difficult to believe that any man, even Zenos, would walk away from a seat of power. “But, what of the empire? Even if you slew your father, you would still have some claim to the throne.”

He grunted. “I care not for Garlemald. I would only care about it if you were part of it. But you are not; you are off in that horrible frozen wasteland. And so I had to go there as well.”

She frowned. “How can you stand to be so reckless? How can you not have any consideration for your own people, for what might happen if they discover your hand was behind his death?”

“I do not truly care.” Another lazy shrug from the man. “I am on my second life now, and am not entirely inclined to remain indebted to the first.”

“And yet you still wish to fight me.”

His look was intense, almost a glare up at her. “Of course, my blessed beast. Don’t you see that? My hunt remains unfinished as long as _you_ live. You are why I did not dwindle into the darkness forever. I came back because of _you_. ”

She wondered if he meant in a literal or more fanciful sense. He did not strike her as the fanciful sort. So, if he meant in the literal sense… “You mean my Echo?”

“Yes.” His pale eyes flashed with a magenta light, the familiarity of which made her stomach clench. “Much as yours keeps your soul so tenaciously tethered to your flesh, the copy I was gifted with has granted my soul similar resilience.”

“I don’t know if I could survive being displaced from my body for as long as you were.”

“For what it was worth, I _was_ dead. The corpses of savages were only enough to serve as temporary holdings until I could get my body back.”

She nodded in understanding. “From the Ascian.”

“Elidibus, yes.” He sighed and leaned on his elbow, resting his cheek on his knuckles. “Are you going to further chastise me for slaying my father, or can we speak of something else?”

She decided that honesty would not hurt in this case. “I’m not really upset that the man is dead. I wouldn’t have minded putting a spearhead through his throat, myself.”

“Mm, my bloodthirsty little prey.” He chuckled. “Worry not. I will not spoil your compatriots’ idyllic view of you and your spirit.”

“I can’t even imagine what they think of my spirit these days,” she said. Zenos set a thoughtful squint on her.

“It is curious, I must admit. I expected there to be a hateful fire in your eyes when I found you. Most I have crossed with since I reclaimed my body have set their gazes upon me, full of hate and bile. Even your _husband_ \--” He grimaced at the word. “Even the Lord Commander of Ishgard regarded me as a hated enemy in his home. Rightfully so. But you, my beast… You disappointed me.”

She swallowed, her limbs weighed down by apprehension. “And, how did I manage such a feat this time, Zenos?”

“The fire in your eyes the other evening was not the blaze I so craved to see. It was like a candle in a jar, slowly suffocating.” He lifted his head from his hand and leaned toward her. “Why?”

“I told you, Zenos. I am not well. I have suffered a great deal in recent times, to the very point of death, and I fear I am not of the mythical resilience that everyone else thinks I am.”

“And that is why you hide away in Ishgard.”

Summer Ruby hesitated, but then nodded. He would figure it out eventually, even if she tried to distract him from her weakness.

“I was not expecting to ever see you again, Zenos. Not really. Fighting your shell on the battlefield was trouble enough. But you, _you_ were gone. And so, to have you standing in my front hall, weapon raised to strike my husband down, I just--I just--” She gasped, throat feeling tight as she was overcome by the memory of the panic and rage and impotence she had felt in that moment. The tension in her body snapped, but it drove her to tears, not violence. She pressed her face into her hands.

Zenos was silent and unmoving as she wept. When she had worn herself into quiet, he said: “Your spirit truly is a broken mess, my friend. Perhaps killing you would be a kindness.”

She coughed and rubbed at her wet nose. “Perhaps it would.”

He watched as she composed herself. “You claim weakness, but are strong enough to weep in front of your hated enemy.”

“And you have sworn yourself to hunt me, have me here at your mercy, and yet you do not strike me down.” She fussed with her hair. “Zenos, we were enemies when you yet lived. You have gone and come again, and while the rest of the world hates you through their memories, I do not know how I feel over the whole matter.” In truth, much of her body still drew taut and trembled with rage at his presence, but not with the entirety and certainty that it had in months past.

“I do not need you to hate me to fight me,” Zenos said. “Although, I am certain your fight would be more exhilarating if hatred and rage were boiling in your veins once more.”

She rubbed at her left temple. An ache had started there, pulsing behind her brow and into her eye. “That would explain your threats to my family.”

“A simple means of provocation.”

“I don’t see why you don’t just kill me now,” she said. “Get it over with.”

“There’s little pleasure in that. Ours should be a fabulous dance to the brink of death, not me shivving you in the forest like some whore.” He hummed softly and got up. “Here, I brought something in case the situation called for it, and I believe it has.”

Summer Ruby watched him rummage around in the pack he carried. He pulled out a bottle of wine, wrenched the cork free, and held the bottle out to her.

“A toast to your misery.”

She looked at him, looked at the bottle, and then shook her head. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s probably poisoned.”

“You wound me, beast. You should know me better. I would not stoop to using poison to kill my prey.” Zenos offered the bottle again. “Besides, I bought it yesterday in the hamlet nearby.”

Reluctantly, she took the bottle. The markings on the label indicated that it had been purchased nearby in Old Gridania. It should have been safe enough, even if Zenos yae Galvus was the one who had handed her the bottle. She held his gaze and took a gulp of wine. Zenos lingered close enough that she could feel his breath on her oversensitive ears.

“Besides, I am aware that something has gnawed away at your spirit. There’s no way you could put up a good fight like you are now.” He reached and picked at the edge of her ear, and the contact nearly caused her to choke on the wine. “Why not tell me what it is? Perhaps I can help.”

Summer Ruby coughed and stared down at the mouth of the wine bottle, red brows drawn together. She wasn’t sure what good telling her troubles to Zenos would do--it was a matter of her frail emotions and persisting guilt, things the man gave no worth to the concept of. But, perhaps he would still make a better sounding board than the inside of her own head.

“So, when I was on the First, I had to deal with an Ascian. Your great-grandsire.”

Zenos said nothing, just nodded, gaze on her lips. 

“He was… I don’t know why, but he took something of a fancy to me.” She lifted the bottle to her lips. “And so I indulged in his fancy a few times.” She swallowed another mouthful of wine. “And then I killed him.”

“You had mentioned something to that effect.” He took the bottle when she offered it. “But, yes, that does sound like something you would do.”

“I mean, I didn’t know how long I was going to be trapped on that Light-damned world, or if I’d ever escape it with my life. And he was there, and wanting, and I--hells, I _am_ just a beast, Zenos.”

He smiled thinly. “I know.”

“I am not you. I cannot abide by combat alone. I need more to sustain myself.” She hiccuped. “Sometimes I just need to get _fucked_.”

He was quiet a moment in consideration, and then said: “I could do that. If it would help.”

“What?” She blinked and looked up at him. His expression was serious. “What, no. No you can not. Here I already have someone who takes care of that.”

“I could kill him.”

“Stop threatening to kill my husband,” she snapped.

“I can’t help it. He’s boring.”

“He’s a good man. And he loves me. You--” She prodded at his bicep with a long nail. “You are not capable of either of those things. You’re just a heartless monster.”

Zenos sneered at her. “He’s dull and can’t even handle a stab wound to the gut without nearly dying.”

“Just, just shut up about Aymeric.” She snatched the bottle back and took another gulp. “You do not have my permission to kill him.”

“I was not aware that I needed your permission for such a task,” Zenos said, voice dragging sarcastically.

“Well, you do.” She prodded him again. “His people need him. His family needs him. I need him. He is worth a great deal more to the world alive.”

“You’re a Viera now, though. You might outlive him by a century or more.”

“I’ll worry about that if it comes to that,” she said. She frowned and shoved the nearly empty bottle back into his hand. “You and I both know that I will be lucky if I live long enough to see my own son grown to adulthood. Everything on this fucking star is out to kill me.”

“I won’t let it,” Zenos said. “I’ve told you: I will be the one to kill you.”

“Well, get in fucking line.” She dropped her face into her palms.

He was quiet next to her for a few minutes. Then: “You don’t seem any better for talking.”

She shook her head and sighed. “I feel guilty.”

“What for?” He gave the bottle a shake. “I don’t see the point in bothering with feelings of guilt.”

“Of course you don’t.”

He hummed while draining the last of the bottle. “Why the guilt, then, my blessed beast? Let me be your confessor.”

“I feel bad. For killing Emet-Selch.”

“I don’t see why.”

She looked at him, and then down once more. “No, I don’t think you could.”

He frowned. “Explain it to me, then.”

Summer Ruby looked at Zenos, and thought of his great-grandsire, of the strange, sad man she had met on the First. He knew his purpose, his goal, and had far greater plans that she could ever hope to dream up. A dark, stark truth dwelled there in her heart, where he had left his words and thoughts for her to ponder. It was something she could not explain to the Scions. They could never understand. For all the good they brought to the world, their hearts fell too quickly to hatred.

“Killing him was a waste of life. He did not deserve to die.”

Zenos tossed the empty bottle aside. “All men die in the end, whether they deserve it or not.”

“Then he--” She fumbled for the words. “He did not deserve the death he was granted. He did not deserve to suffer at my hands as he did.” She felt her voice start to catch in her throat. “Why did I--” 

Zenos was silent and watched as she shook her head and rubbed at her left brow. Then he said: “Wine is said to bring truths to the surface, but you seem to be something of a lightweight.”

The man was ever observant, wasn’t he. She smiled crookedly and shook her head. “I’ve never been very good with alcohol, and it seems worse since I’ve become a Viera.”

He gave a little grunt of acknowledgement and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Why do you carry your feelings of guilt toward my great-grandsire? He is dead and gone, and that all happened on an entirely different world. It doesn’t matter here.” Zenos leaned toward her. “Let it all go. Run with me, and I will drive you until you cannot breathe, cannot spare any thought other than how you will keep my blade out of your back.”

That almost sounded appealing to Summer Ruby, but that same slight appeal was enough to bring her back to her own thoughts. She wiped at her mouth and shook her head.

“No, I can’t do that, Zenos. That is not my purpose, my place in this world. I am the Warrior of Light, and I--I--” She stopped.

“You _what_?” he snapped. “Please do indulge me in whatever pathetic threats you might think of for me.”

She stared at him and drew herself up as much as she could muster. It was difficult--she had fallen out of practice the last few weeks. “I am the Warrior of Light, and I live to protect this land. You are not wanted here, Zenos yae Galvus. Go _home_ , and do not return to Eorzea.” She waved her right hand off to the east. “I do not wish to see you again.”

Zenos leaned in close, looming over her, but she clenched her jaw and stood her ground.

His voice was a growl when he spoke: “As you wish.”

And then he was gone from the bluffs, spirited away in an angry black and violet swirl.


	5. The Mother's Mercy

Aymeric was pleased when his morning meeting finished up early, and he had time to return home before listening to the House of Commons in the afternoon. He hurriedly excused himself from the other knights, left Lucia in charge, and made his way back to the Borel manor. He hoped his wife was home. The steward had reported that the Lady Borel liked to go to the Cathedral many mornings, and some other times she would wander off from the house for a few hours, returning later with mud on her boots and smelling of the snow. He knew that the great Warrior of Light was not used to, well, having nothing to do. He wished she felt more comfortable taking the time to herself, before the Scions came calling for her once more.

But he also knew that the Warrior of Light had never been one to rest easily. She was always pressing forward, one battle to the next, as though pushed forward by the hand of the Fury Herself. Aymeric felt bad about this, always, wanting nothing more than for his beloved to know peace.

He thought sometimes she might only know peace in death--and that itself was not guaranteed.

The manor was quiet when he returned. A quick check in the baby’s room showed that little Merle was placidly kicking his legs while watching his mobile turn. Aymeric could faintly sense his wife’s magic in the turning painted wooden figures of chocobos and dragonkin. Summer Ruby was not here, though, so he kissed his son on the head and carried on to another room. His study was empty, the library was empty, and so he wound up headed to the master suite.

She was here, sitting on the bed and garbed in her dark blue dressing gown. Her ears were drooping slightly as she focused on the book open on her lap. He caught a flash of her long legs as she shifted on the bedcovers, and was reminded why he had hurried home in the first place.

She looked up when he cleared his throat, and a smile sprang to her lips. “Aymeric!” The book was swiftly closed and abandoned on the bedside table. She held her hands out to him as he approached the bedside. 

He pressed his lips to hers. “Good morning, my love. I hope you have not gone mad without me.”

She smiled and laughed and grabbed him by the elbows. He let himself be pulled into her lap, delighting at how strong and sure her fingers were on his arms. He could feel the pressure of her fingertips digging into the leather and scale.

“If I go mad, it would be from not having enough of you with me,” she said. He touched her chin.

“You know I would spend all the moments of my day with you if I could.”

His wife chuckled low in her throat. The sound was sultry and sent a thrill down his spine. “You know that is not true. We would drive each other to strife if we were together every hour. Absence makes the heart fonder and that rot.”

“Ah, yes. I think the saying went something like that.”

The fingers of her right hand released their grip and moved to one of the buckles hidden by his surcoat. “And so I would enjoy all the time I have with you, while I can.”

The ominous flavor of her words was difficult to ignore, but Aymeric tried all the same. He dipped his head, pressing his lips to the gentle curve of her jaw. “Are you well?”

“Better, now that you’re here.” She tipped her head back, and his gaze instinctively followed the line of her throat down to the open collar of her dressing gown. He caught a glimpse of the dark bare skin underneath the blue of the gown and was struck with a realization.

“Oh,” he said. “You were waiting for me to come home.” He felt one of the clasps on his side release.

“Yes, I was hoping you might get to come home for lunch.” Warm fingertips slid underneath his armor, and the contact sparked a flush of heat through his whole body.

“I--I hope didn’t keep you waiting too overlong, my love.”

The pads of her roaming fingers were as hot coals on his skin, and he gasped softly as they traced over his ribcage, down as far as they could reach.

“Just long enough.”

They kissed again, and he felt a happy, warm twist in his gut. “I came home to see you.”

“I’m glad we’re of a like mind, then.”

Her hand withdrew and resumed working on freeing him from his armor. In the many months since they had first been together, the Warrior of Light had become quite adept at releasing the buckles and clasps. She was never of any use when he was getting dressed in the dark of the morning, but by the Fury if there were ever an emergency that required the Lord Commander to disrobe in less than three minutes, she would maintain her status as champion of the realm.

When he slid into her it was a comfort, like coming in out of the cold after a long day on guard duty. Her arms looped over his shoulders, pulling him close, strong fingers digging into his flesh but nails being mindful of his pale skin. She held him near, breath rattling in her throat and escaping to tickle warmly against his ear.

She breathed: “I love you”, and it set his soul on fire.

In the afternoon she roused Aymeric from his nap, helped him freshen up and redress, made sure he took time to eat lunch, and then saw him off to his next meeting. The whole time he had gazed at her with a dopey, adoring expression that made her want to write off the rest of his day’s plans and keep him locked away in their bedroom instead. She managed to resist this urge, if just barely. When he was gone back into the cold, she sat in the study, little baby Merle cradled in her arms. The baby was not much for conversation, so after an hour of quiet she settled the baby back into his crib.

The need to get out of the house clawed at the back of her mind, as it did regularly, and so she got dressed and made her way out to the Jeweled Crozier. She didn’t really need to buy anything, as her gear was all mended and she had no responsibilities in keeping the manor’s stocks maintained. That didn’t mean she couldn’t browse the stalls, though. It was something she enjoyed doing, as the fine craftsmanship of the Ishgardians helped assure her that the country was indeed slowly recovering from its woes.

She noticed a familiar figure standing in front of a booth overloaded with flowers, and felt a happy little leap in her chest.

“Lord Edmont!”

The former head of House Fortemps looked up at his name, glancing around until he spotted her and smiled.

“Ah, Summer Ruby, my dear girl. You know you don’t have to be so formal with me,” the older man said. She smiled and gave his hand a squeeze.

“I feel like I should, out in public at least.”

“You haven’t been by the manor much lately. Are you well? How is my little grandson?” He said the last question in a vaguely teasing manner.

“I’m doing as best I can. And Merle is just fine. In surprisingly good spirits for a teething baby.”

Lord Edmont chuckled. “That is good to hear. The Lord Commander seems in a good mood whenever I see him as of late. He must be quite happy to have you home.”

Summer Ruby smiled. “And I’m glad to be home.” She cast a look to the booth. It was stocked with a variety of flowers, most likely recently imported from the greenhouses and fields of Gridania. “The flowers look lovely.”

“They do. I was thinking about…” He trailed off, his brow wrinkling. 

“Oh.” She cleared her throat. “You know, I haven’t been to visit him since I’ve returned to Ishgard. I could take flowers up on your behalf, if you’d like.”

“I’m sure he’d appreciate it. I never know what to say to him anymore.” He returned his gaze to the flowers. “Will you help me pick some out?”

She patted his sleeve. “Of course.”

She made her way out to the cliffs that overlooked Ishgard from the southeast. To the place where the beloved bastard son of House Fortemps continued his watch. The was calm this afternoon, and the vista was quiet. She dismounted and retrieved the bundle of flowers from her chocobo’s saddle.

“Don’t worry, it’s just me,” she called.

There was, of course, no reply from the lonely grave.

The snow in the area was undisturbed, and any other offerings that had been left were all long since disposed of by the wind. She paused a few fulms away, and had a realization.

“Oh, that’s right. You haven’t seen me like this, Haurchefant.” She balanced the flowers in her left arm and tipped her head forward, gesturing her right hand at her ears. “Check it out--they’re real. It’s a long story, but I got turned into a Viera.” She smiled sadly as she righted herself. “You’d get a kick out of it, really. The ears are stupidly sensitive. You are definitely not permitted to touch them.”

Satisfied now that things had been cleared up, she crossed the last few yalms to the grave before setting the flowers down. She knelt while unwrapping the offering and arranging the white and violet blossoms so they looked presentable.

“A gift from your father. He wanted to come up, but I think his knees are bothering him. He’s still trying so hard to be strong for everyone.” She sighed and folded up the paper before tucking it into her coat pocket. “Everyone misses you, brother. But, you know that. You’re always watching, right?” She swallowed against a tightness in her throat. She mumbled: “Even when it’s probably creepy.”

Behind her, the chocobo let out a reassuring whistle. She tried not to laugh.

“Um, let’s see.” She sighed again. “I’ve had a rough time the last few months. Got pulled to another world, turned into a bunny girl, nearly died and turned into a horrible monster… Yeah, I know. Standard hero stuff.” She rubbed at her nose. “It’s really wearing me out though, Haurch. I don’t know much longer I can keep doing this, and I--I don’t really know how to talk to Aymeric or the Scions about it.”

She pressed her palm to the cold stone. “I mean, it’s not all bad. Merle is doing well. I was so happy to see him when I got back. He’s like a little tiny fat Aymeric doll. Um. And you can probably tell from here, the rebuilding efforts in the city are going well. Everyone’s working together. It’s amazing, and I’m just so proud of everyone.” Her eyes watered again and she dipped her head. “I wish you could see it in person.”

She balled her hands on her knees, trying to wait out the urge to cry. Haurchefant had never liked seeing her cry, not even at the end.

“I’m sorry. I hate to make it awkward for you.” She rubbed at her nose. “Don’t mind me. I just need to clear my head.”

She stared down at her hands for a few minutes. Then she spoke again, thinking aloud. “You know, it’s strange. When I was on that other world, I ran into a nice fellow who reminded me a bit of you. Well, a memory of the fellow.” She shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe I was too close to death then, maybe my memory of the dead just overlapped with his… He was nice, though.”

Summer Ruby lapsed into silence, mind drifting back to her brief visit to Amaurot. She thought of the specter of Hythlodaeus, the only one to which Emet-Selch had accidentally given thought. Although, considering the heavily sentimental nature of the Ascian, she would not have been surprised if the old man had appeared and said it was no accident--what man would recreate the moments of the last happy memory he had and _not_ include his closest friend in that vision? The Scions had chastised him for it, but she thought she understood. If she had to recreate a memory of Ishgard, she would certainly have made sure Haurchefant was present.

And there had just been something about the Amaurotine’s friendly cadence, about the way it felt as though he were resisting the urge to pat her on the head and tease her for their size difference. It had been just enough to make her wonder. Had he been watching out for his friend, even a rift and world away?

She sighed forlornly: “Damn.”

This was not helping. She had come out here to clear her head of its cluttered thoughts, but kneeling in the snow in front of her friend’s grave was just not helping. Her eyes kept darting to the damaged shield, to the jagged hole cut in its middle. The hole reminded her of the one struck through the Ascian, big enough to stick her hand straight through the man’s body, glowing sickly with ruined aether.

She closed her eyes so she would not have to see the shield.

A few more minutes passed in quiet. She tried to think in her head what Haurchefant would tell her if she expressed her current set of woes to him. She tried, but this afternoon the comforting words did not come.

From behind she was aware of a subtle shifting in the air. Before she could even open her eyes, her chocobo was letting out a loud angry _wark_. The sound of a muffled obscenity followed. Summer Ruby scrambled to her feet and turned to face the disruption. She was met by the sight of the crown prince of the Garleans doing his best to keep her chocobo from closing its big brown beak over his neck. She was inclined to let the bird continue, but then decided it would be in poor taste to let the man’s blood be shed so close to Haurchefant’s grave.

“Irvine, [ _yield_ ]!”

The chocobo immediately disengaged, a frustrated warble rattling in his throat as he took a step back. Zenos’ hand went to his sword, but Summer Ruby darted forward and grabbed it away.

“Don’t you dare!” she shouted at the man. “He was just doing as he’s been trained! You don’t strike a soldier down for doing their job correctly, what is _wrong_ with you?”

For a moment his blue eyes were wide and surprised, but then he blinked and sneered at her.

“It attacked me!” She could feel his muscles strain through her grip on his hand.

“I banished you from the realm. What are you doing here, Zenos?”

He gazed down at her, unmoved by her shouts, and shrugged. “I didn’t listen to you. Obviously.”

“I should let the bird rip your face off!”

Zenos had already pressed his expression back to the point of impassivity. “Calm down, woman. Is that any way to act in front of a grave?”

She let go of his hand and bumped the heels of her hands against his chest. “Rich words coming from a monster like you. You aren’t worthy of standing at his grave at all.”

He grabbed her wrists and held her fast. “Watch your tongue, beast.” His gaze flicked over her shoulder. “Tell me about the grave. Tell me why my proximity to it stokes such a beautiful fire in your eyes.”

Summer Ruby gritted her teeth. Zenos did not deserve to know of the man who had saved her life. Haurchefant had been a sincerely good person and a dedicated knight, and nothing like the man currently staring her down.

“I’m not sure you would be able to understand the man lying in that grave, Zenos. Because he was a good man, and not a monster like you.” She winced as Zenos’ grip tightened, his thumbs pressing into the median nerve on each wrist. “He was a knight. But, he was also a good friend of mine.”

“And yet he is cold in the ground. What fate befell him?”

“The one of a knight.” She closed her eyes against the memory, but did not try to deny it in the forefront of her mind. “The archbishop had the Lord Commander imprisoned. There was a group that decided to infiltrate the Vaults where he was being kept, and I went along. I had to go along, of course, as the Warrior of Light. But, the Lord Commander and I had already been courting for several months by then. I wasn’t going to leave him to be tortured and rot away in a cell.” She opened her eyes and leaned in toward Zenos. “I would have gone into that dungeon by myself if I’d had to.”

“Love makes fools of men,” the prince said. He jerked his chin toward the grave. “And this man?”

“He was part of the group that went to save Aymeric. But, he was struck down protecting me from an attack that was meant to end my journey.” She flexed her hands, and Zenos released his hold.

Summer Ruby turned and faced the grave. She rubbed at one wrist, then the other, willing the feeling back into her digits. “You see the shield? That was his shield. You see the hole in the shield? That was meant for me.”

Zenos said nothing, but she could feel him close at her back. His breath tickled her ears. 

“Fools of men.” She heard his boot heels grind on the snow as he turned away. “Though, perhaps I owe him a word of thanks.”

The chocobo rattled and hissed at the man again as he approached.

“It’s a very large chocobo, isn’t it?”

Summer Ruby blinked, tearing her gaze away from the ruined shield. “What?”

Behind her, Zenos was standing in front of her mount, a gloved hand half raised in front of the creature’s beak. Irvine was, to his feathery credit, still obeying her previous command to not maul the man.

“Yes, well, I got him years ago. I was a Roegadyn back then. Needed a bigger bird to carry me around.”

“I see. Do you think he’d carry me?”

She snorted. “Not a chance. He only listens to me. He’s my bird, not anyone else’s.”

“A loyal beast,” Zenos murmured. “I have heard tales of the Ishgardian warbirds. Are the stories of their ferocity in battle true?”

She smirked. “I could let you find out, if you really want to get your ass handed to you by a giant blue chicken.”

“Why _is_ the beast blue?”

“Special diet.” She shrugged and approached the pair. The chocobo fluttered his little wings and whistled at her, expressing his discontent. _Please let me attack the bad man_ , the whistle said. She reached out and pressed a hand to the silvered plate covering the bird’s throat. She sighed. “Zenos, if you do not intend on leaving Eorzea, what are your plans? I must know, so that I might be able to forewarn the Holy See.”

“My plans have not changed. I am waiting for you to be ready to fight me. Nothing more.”

“And, after that?”

He shrugged. She rolled her eyes and retrieved a green from the pack on the bird’s saddle. “It’s fortunate for Garlemald that you aren’t going to be its Emperor, then. If your only plans for the future are ‘fight, rinse, repeat’, they could likely do better.”

“I don’t care.”

No, she thought, he certainly didn’t. “You still are not permitted in Ishgard. You are trespassing, Zenos, and as such I should have you removed from the area.” Her chocobo chomped down on the green when she held it out, ripping the broad leaf in half with a swift jerk of its head. 

Zenos’ tone was sarcastic. “What are you going to do, _Warrior of Light_ , evict me with your giant chicken?”

“The idea keeps crossing my mind, yes.” She watched Zenos, took in the way the massive man regarded her chocobo with a mixture of irritation and what might be labeled as begrudging respect. Irvine, for his part, continued to stomp his clawed toes in the snow and flutter his wings in mutual irritation. A single word in old High Ishgardian would be all it took to set the bird loose on her enemy. But, she cared for and valued the chocobo, and would never be so careless as to send him to a guaranteed slaughter.

However, a thought came to mind. Zenos was a man of wicked behavior, and yet he still displayed a certain amount of care and restraint in his actions. He was clearly aware of when he needed to hold back his blade. There was nothing she could do to prevent Zenos from returning to Ishgard whenever he felt like it--that Ascian teleportation trick made sure of this. But, perhaps she could leverage herself against the safety of the whole country. It was a dreadful thought, but she was still the Warrior of Light, and like it or not she still felt a wearisome drive to protect those around her. She did not think she would be able to handle the repercussions of being the reason her people were hurt by Zenos. _I never asked for this responsibility_ \-- she mentally clamped down on the thought. If Aymeric could handle such unwanted pressure, then so could she. 

She only hoped Aymeric would see her actions as they were. She was doing this for him.

“I’ll make a deal with you, Zenos,” she said, trying to keep her voice neutral.

He turned his head to look at her, the golden curtain of his hair obscuring his face for a moment before he flicked it thoughtlessly over his shoulder. “I’m listening.”

She looked at his face, took in his nearly blank expression, void except for the slight sag in his eyelids that he must have inherited from his great-grandsire. “I will not front any aggressive efforts to keep you out of Ishgard, but in turn you must agree to bring no harm to the people of the state. Not to my family, or anyone else down to the smallest of the smallfolk. Even if they turn on you in anger. I know you can disable someone without killing them.”

His lips twitched briefly into a frown before the emotionless mask slipped back into place. “I will agree to your terms, if you agree to mine.”

“And what are your terms?”

Zenos took a step away from the chocobo. “I will limit my time in Ishgard, but I want you to come to me when I call for you.” He flicked a gloved finger in the air, and she saw a brief spark of tainted aether. “I know you can access those aetherytes that I have observed dotted across the landscape. Use them. I do not like to be kept waiting.”

Summer Ruby stared at him. She really was agreeing to trade her safety for that of everyone else in Ishgard, wasn’t she? Aymeric would be upset when he found out. He would tell her that it was not her burden to bear. Except it was, _it was_. She was the source of the problem here, and so she had to be the one to take control of the issue.

She held out her hand. “I agree to your terms, Zenos yae Galvus.”

His gaze lingered on her palm for a moment longer than she was comfortable with. Then he took her hand. “I agree to your terms as well, Summer Ruby de Borel.”

She squeezed his hand, hoping he did not notice her blush. It was rare for anyone to call her by her full name. It sounded sinful when Zenos said it out loud, and she thought she might need to spend a few minutes at the Cathedral after she returned to the city proper.

“You should go now,” she said. “Before the guards out on the bridge notice that I’m not alone up here.”

His expression said he did not care if anyone noticed his presence, and yet he still nodded down at her. “Until next time, my blessed beast. Do take care.”

The chocobo squawked and snapped his beak at the dark portal as it opened and closed with the prince’s departure. Summer Ruby went over to the bird and took his reins, gently shushing him. She pressed her face into the bird's glossy peacock blue feathers. It took several deep breaths before the slight tremble of released tension left her body. The big bird picked at a lock of her hair, whistling reassuringly.

“Thank you, Irvine.”

She heaved a sigh and looked back at the grave.

“I’m so sorry you had to see that, Haurchefant.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you did not think I was going to find a way to include Summer's dear chocobo in this story, then you underestimate how much I love my big blue murder birb.


	6. The Big Fuck-Off Bear

It felt good to get out of the house, so to speak. Nearly a week had passed since she had last left the confines of the city, and while it was pleasant being able to spend time with her son and husband, she could not help but worry that she was going to get soft from inactivity. Knowing that Zenos was out there somewhere, waiting for her to fight did not help this concern. Her own over-sized destrier was in good spirits as they made their way out of the cold of the western highlands and into the somewhat warmer forests of Dravania. Listening to the big bird as he cheerfully chirped and whistled to himself was enough to put a smile on her face. She and Irvine had been through a lot over the years, and she had to admit she had missed the beast while away on the First. The amaro had been nice enough--even the talking ones--but they just were not the same as a familiar battle companion.

The local hunters had reported the usual sort of menace that crept down out of the mountains every now and then to torment the local chocobo population. An enormous black bear, teeth and claws as big as a man’s hand, that had decided to fatten up on the forest’s avian population instead of the usual fruit and berry diet. The thing had already mauled two hunters who tried to dispatch it, and had been leaving partial chocobo corpses littered about the forest floor for more than a week. So, they had requested help from the hunters back at the Holy See.

And Aymeric, ever the romantic, had offered the job to her.

Summer Ruby knew it to be a touch hypocritical to be willing to do some busy work for the Temple Knights and not the Scions, but she did not care. Busy work for the Scions was a lot more stressful and dangerous than just allowing herself to be dispatched to dispose of a chocobo-eating menace.

She stopped in Tailfeather for a few minutes, boarding the bird and asking around for information. Then she continued north into the forest on foot.

The sky was heavily overcast, and it would likely snow back in Ishgard proper later in the day. She followed the trail that the hunters had recommended, weaving slowly between the giant old trees. She stopped to watch a few wild chocobos as they cheerfully flapped their wings and trilled at each other, uncaring or oblivious of her presence and any other dangers that might surround them.

Summer Ruby paused to check her map against her current location. Based on what the hunters in Tailfeather had told her, she was close to the point where the chocobo-eating menace had last been spotted. There were no visible signs of any bear, giant or otherwise, but she could not help but feel uneasy. The forest here was far quieter than it should have been this time of the afternoon, as though the life contained within knew that something dangerous was in its midst. For a brief moment she could not help but wonder if _she_ were the hidden danger, but no, the eerie quiet was only in this immediate area.

She continued carefully between the trees, bow gripped in her left hand. She did not have to go much further before finding her target. The bear was indeed massive, but she could see immediately that something was wrong. It was on the ground, motionless, its head nearly completely cleaved free from its bristling back. The bear was _dead_.

And the source of its demise was waiting not far away, leaning against a thick old tree trunk and looking, well, _bored_.

“Zenos yae Galvus, what in the seven hells are you doing?”

“And a good afternoon to you too, my dear beast.” Zenos paced over to the bear and retrieved his katana from where it had been jabbed into the animal’s forehead. He gave her a half-disinterested look as he flicked the mess from his blade and returned it to the scabbard on his hip.

She shook her head, flustered. “Zenos, what--”

“I got here before you, and there was this big fuck-off bear, so I killed it.” He squinted at her. “What, these grounds aren’t really part of Ishgard, are they? I can’t say I bothered to acquire a map. Should I have applied for a hunting permit at the outpost?” He smirked. “I’m sure they would not have approved for the sort of permit I would need for you, beast.”

 _Wow_ , she thought _, being away from the imperial palace for so long is really starting to mess with your sense of decorum, isn’t it_? He must have been spending too much time listening to the guards run their mouths when they thought no one was around.

“Aren’t you glad to see me?” he asked. She rubbed the bridge of her nose, hoping that the pain did not spread to her left eye again.

 _Not especially_ , Summer Ruby thought. Finally she sighed: “I was out here to have some me time. You know, _alone_.”

“Alone time hunting a giant bear.”

“Yes, that too. How did you hear about that?”

“I didn’t.” Zenos gestured toward the southeast. “I was watching the city, and noticed you leaving on that big blue bird of yours. It’s hard to miss, even in the snow. I followed you here, and when you stopped at the outpost I extrapolated various routes you might take, and picked one, with the assumption that you would eventually pass by.” He shrugged and jabbed a finger in the direction of her dead mark. “But then there was the giant bear, and I couldn’t help myself.”

That was right. Zenos had often been praised for his technical military mind. It should come as no surprise that he could figure out where she was going.

Not a surprise, no, but still somewhat irritating.

She sighed again. “Well, there goes my afternoon.” She leaned her bow against a tree and sat. Zenos paced over and picked the weapon up, but she did not fight over it. Without any of the arrows pressed between her back and the tree, the best he could likely manage would be either to bludgeon her with it, or perhaps garrote her with the bowstring if he was feeling creative.

Instead he said: “I didn’t know you used a bow.”

“I’ve never used one around you, that’s why. Archery was the first combat I picked up, years ago.” She gestured at the right side of her face. “That’s where the scar is from. Bowstring snapped and--” She made a popping noise with her mouth. Zenos looked down at her and smiled that contented cat smile of his.

“Well, for what it’s worth, the scar is quite winsome on you.”

She tipped her head down at the compliment, hoping that she did not blush. “So, you’ve taken to just, what, staking out the gates of the city?”

He set the bow back in place and then sat next to her, scabbard cast across his thighs. “Not every day. Not all day. You don’t tend to leave the city during the morning.”

“Yes, because I go to the Cathedral and pray, like a good person,” she muttered. He grunted.

“All the same, you don’t ever seem to leave before the mid-day bells.”

“Why?”

He frowned. “Why what?”

“Why do you keep tabs on me, Zenos?”

Zenos grinned, all hungry teeth. “Because, I need to know how my prey fares.”

Summer Ruby looked away. She thought back to the night, weeks ago now, going back to bed after Zenos had invaded the privacy of her home. Aymeric had pressed himself against her, arms tight around her middle, face buried in the curve of her neck. He usually only did that after he had nightmares of his time in the Vault. He had said--what was it?--that the prince had claimed to have tracked her to their doorway. He had _known_ somehow that Aymeric was lying about her whereabouts.

“Tell me, Zenos. That first time you came to Ishgard and attacked my husband--”

“That was _not_ an attack,” he interjected. “If that had been an attack, he would have been dead before you ever woke up.”

She did not like that thought. “Remember our agreement.”

“Begrudgingly, yes. But, we had not yet spoken enough to reach an accord that night.” He tucked a stray lock of blond hair behind his ear. “Your question?”

“How did you know I was there?”

A soft grunt: “As I’m sure he told you that I told him, I tracked you to the front door of the manor. Your soul is quite powerful, compared to our peers. It stands like a beacon to those who would look.”

She looked up at him. “My… soul?”

Zenos closed his eyes for a moment, and when he reopened them she saw the strange magenta trace of his Resonant on his eyes. She tried not to lean away, but the look still made her uncomfortable. “Yes. When I look, I can see your soul.” The corners of his lips quirked into an approximation of a smile. “It is a beautiful color, I must admit. Like wild, untamed aether--such a roiling shade of blue. It is different from the dull lights in the breasts of everyone else in that city.” He reached out a hand, fingertips ghosting at a spot in front of her throat. “I knew it was you when I saw you. There was no doubt in my mind.”

“The color…” It was a strange thing for him to mention. The color of a soul was something she had only heard Emet-Selch and the memory of Hythlodaeus mention.

He blinked slowly and the red faded from his gaze. He withdrew his hand, looking at his palm for a moment before searching her face. “What, you can’t do that? See the souls of others with the Echo?”

She frowned. “W-what? No, of course not. That’s not something that people just _do_.” She muttered under her breath. “Creepy ass.”

Zenos tipped his head to the side and looked down at her. He squinted at her, as though he were trying to understand her reaction to his query. “You’re not still cross about the bear, are you?” He sighed. “You’re the Eikon-slayer. Eorzea’s very own goddess of war. You don’t need to lower yourself to hunting bears.”

“And you do?”

He shrugged. “I suppose if I carve the pelt off the beast I could get enough coin for to pay for my travel expenses for a week or two.”

“Crown prince of the Garlean empire and you didn’t think to bring any money with you?”

Zenos balanced his elbow on his knee and planted his chin in his palm. “The empire’s money is worthless in this part of the world, unless you’re trying to bribe turncoats. But, you probably knew that.”

Truthfully, she hadn’t considered that. “Gil works pretty much everywhere in Eorzea.”

“Yes, well.” His fingers curled in against his cheek. “In Garlemald I had open credit for everything I might want. I was in a rush to leave and find you, so I didn’t think about that sort of thing.”

“About that.” She looked at him, took in his bored and yet completely focused expression, the way his pale eyes did not leave her face. “Why were you in such a rush to find me? Who were you trying to get to me before?”

The prince hesitated. It was a visible thing--she had noticed him do it before, the way he just locked up like a glitchy piece of magitek and stared at her for five seconds before blinking. “I don’t know. I simply had a pressing urge to get to you.” His eyelids drooped and he stared again. Then: “I cannot explain the feeling. Just a certainty that something was coming to take you away from me again.”

She sighed and looked away. “I am not someone or something that you have claim over, Zenos. I cannot be ‘taken away’ from you like that.”

His gaze was an almost tangible touch, ghosting against her cheek. “I tried so hard to reach you after I died. But I was just a step behind, and then you were gone from the world entirely. You may as well have died, but I held on to the hope, the conviction that you would return, stronger, as I did before you.”

“What would you have done if I had never returned? If I had died on that other world? I mean, I nearly did. The Ascian full well saw to that.”

Zenos grunted in displeasure. “I would have been very cross with my great-grandsire.”

Summer Ruby smiled down at the forest floor. “That makes two of us.”

She bumped her shoulder against his arm, and a soft noise caught in his throat.

“But, I do need to tell you… This obsessive behavior of yours is not healthy. And neither is my letting you continue it.” She shook her head. “From any other man, it might almost be endearing.” She thought of Aymeric, of how blatantly enamored with her he had been from the minute they met. “But not you. From you it is worrisome, because though you insist upon calling me your friend, there is no kindness or caring in your actions. That is not how a man should treat their friend, and expect to keep them.”

Zenos was quiet for a long moment. Then: “You _are_ my friend. Perhaps I am fond of you and you just do not wish to see.”

“No, you aren’t.” She snorted. “You don’t know how to feel any positive feelings, Zenos. I’m quite certain that was gouged out of you at a young age.”

He picked at the edge of his scabbard. “You don’t have to gloat over it.” His nail snagged on a crack in the varnish. “I must admit, though, I do not know why death was not enough to stop my obsession with you.”

“I beat you. You died. I won. You lost.” She shook her head. “You just can’t handle being the loser.”

He sighed softly. “It was a perfect defeat, though. Like something from a storybook. The hero, defeated, dying in a field of flowers after having met his equal.”

“Then, why haven’t you stayed dead?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps it was just the interference of the Ascians. Perhaps it was something else.”

“Something else? What something else?”

“I don’t know,” he said once more. “The strength of my will, or the power of the Resonant. Perhaps the flicker of despair I saw in your eyes when the blood gushed forth from my neck.”

She nearly shuddered at his words. “Don’t remind me of that.”

“You had your back to all of your companions,” Zenos said, his tone matter-of-fact. “They could not see your face. They could not see the truth. See that the Warrior of Light regretted my actions. Did you ever tell them that you accepted my offer?”

_You and I are one and the same. Together, we could while away the hours, as friend and confidant… If you will accept me._

She pressed her face into her hand, fingertips squeezing at her left temple. “Oh, seven hells, is that what you really wanted, Zenos? You could have just put your sword down. Left before the rest of the Resistance got there. You had plenty of time.”

“No, I could not,” he said. “I can abide no cowardice, least of all my own. And it would have been cowardice to get that far and not throw myself into that battle with you. I needed that fight.”

“If you say so.” She closed her eyes, trying not to remember the peaceful look on the mans’ face when he took his own life. “To be fair, even though I accepted your offer, I still wanted to keep kicking the shit out of you while I could. As payback for earlier.”

“What do you mean?”

“During the attack on Rhalgr’s Reach, I couldn’t even stand against you. I was already in so much pain, just barely able to fake a determined look for the Scions as they… as I let myself be dragged from my home and my family in Ishgard and back into battle for a whole nation of people I scarcely cared existed. And then the next time, on that road. It took literally everything I had to not collapse at your feet.”

“I did not realize you were in such a poor condition,” Zenos said. “You hid it very well. I thought you were just _weak_.”

“Yes. I’ve gotten good at hiding my pain over the years.”

“What…” He hesitated, something grimacing across his features. “What happened to you?”

“Um, it was in giving birth to Merle. The birthing itself wasn’t that bad. A little tearing, but nothing the chirurgeons couldn’t patch up. But I… something hemorrhaged, and I just… wouldn’t stop bleeding. By the time the healers got anything to take, I was nearly gone.” She frowned and turned her face away from his, casting her gaze out into the lengthening shadows of the afternoon. Even now, months later, she could not shake the feeling that the Light had been punishing her by letting her stray so close to death. “I had not fully recuperated by the time I was summoned back into the game by the Scions. Sometimes I think I should have ignored them and stayed in Ishgard.”

She was surprised to feel the rough texture of his palm press against the back of her right hand. “For what little it is worth, I am glad you lived. And I am glad you answered the call to action. Had you not, I might never have chanced to meet you, or to delight in the prowess of the champion of the savages.”

“Zenos…”

His fingers curled against hers. “But I am also glad for your strength. It encourages me to bolster my own. My friend.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, a trembling breath escaping her as tears pushed at her eyelashes.

“I’m fine now,” she said, voice threatening to catch in her throat. “I don’t need your kindness.”

“I am not giving you kindness, Summer Ruby. I am giving you the truth.”

She rubbed her eyes on the sleeve of her coat before daring to look at him. It was strange, she thought, how almost normal he looked when he was calm. 

She thought of his words. “I don’t think I could be that fond of you, Zenos. I don’t know if there is anything in you to like. Or be fond of.”

He scoffed. “I don’t need to be liked. Least of all by you.”

The bluff of an emotionally damaged child, she thought. Then: “But, I would remiss if I did not admit that there was something charming about your stupid, single-minded obsession with me. With fighting me.”

“I am glad to know you are not beyond the beauty of such things.”

She nodded. “But, that’s all it is. You’re just obsessed with me because you don’t know any better.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Then Zenos shifted his weight and sat up. He said: “My friend.”

She glanced up at him. “What?”

“You are still my dearest friend.” He frowned. “My only friend. The only one I need.”

She was reluctant to encourage him, but could tell he was not going to let this point go. “I suppose that’s true, in a fashion.”

“And even if I can’t treasure someone as you do that long-necked _husband_ of yours, it doesn’t mean I can’t--I can’t--” He growled in frustration, fingers cutting into the earth between them.

She gave what she hoped sounded like a soothing laugh. “What would you have me say, Zenos? I am a married woman, and more than a decade older than you. I can’t just run off to become your playmate, even if I wanted to.” She nudged his shoulder. “Which I don’t, by the way. We’re still enemies.”

“What, because you are the Warrior of Light, and I am but another monster for you to slay?”

That was one way of thinking of it, she thought. She shook her head and touched his arm. The muscles under the leather were tensed and ready.

“Zenos, you want to kill me. That’s the whole reason we’re even sitting here--because you cannot let go of your desire to hunt me down and defeat me.”

“It is all I have.”

“And, what will you do once you’ve killed me? Have you even thought that far ahead, Zenos?”

His lips pursed and then grimaced into a frown. “I prefer to focus myself on the task at hand.”

“If you just kill yourself again, it truly seems like a waste of energy. And time.”

“That is for me to decide, not you, my beast.”

“The prey does not get any say in whether or not the hunt was worthwhile?”

Zenos opened his mouth, but stopped. His mouth closed, and something pinched between his brows.

For several minutes he was silent. Summer Ruby passed the time looking around the woods, watching the dappled light shift and shimmer. It made her think of Amaurot burning, of the Ascian dying in a miserable fury. She shivered.

When Zenos spoke again, it was slow and low and careful, as though he were still piecing the words together from his tangled thoughts.

“I do not want to kill you, Summer Ruby. But, I--” He stopped, eyes darting from her face to his hands and back once more. “I wish for the hunt to continue. I would chase you forever, my blessed beast, to the edge but never over. That is what I desire.”

Summer Ruby understood what he meant. But, she also knew that what Zenos desired from her was not something she could keep up with indefinitely.

“What will you do when I can no longer keep you interested, Zenos? When the hunt stales and your prey fails to excite? What do you do when the well runs dry?”

The slight contortion of his face told her that she was asking too many questions of a sort that he did not want to ponder.

“Tell me, Zenos.”

“Should that happen, then I shall refresh the well with thy blood.”

She sighed and shifted her gaze back to the forest. “I suppose that you will.”

His eyes were on her again. Probably waiting for her to do something worthwhile, she thought. He was the sort to get bored too easily. Too clever a man, too focused and yet short an attention span to be satisfied long with a lull in existence.

“Are you looking for something out there?”

She gave her head a brief shake. “No.”

“You keep shivering. And yet I know you are not cold.”

“Ever the observant hunter.”

From far in the distance, the sound of the mid-afternoon bells chimed the hour. Summer Ruby pushed herself up to her feet. Her joints protested in their stiffness from sitting on the ground too long. She wondered if she had lived long enough to feel as though she were getting old.

“Well. Thank you for the conversation, Zenos, but I think it’s time for me to be going home. I don’t want to get caught in a snowstorm along the way. I must take care of my family.”

Zenos stood, towering over her once more. He pressed his right hand lightly between her ears, and then moved it to her cheek. She closed her eyes, trying not to hear the little voice in the back of her mind that said she was stupid for letting her guard down around him, or at least for not trying to stab the monstrous man.

“You should take care of yourself, too, Summer Ruby.”

She looked up at him, at his inscrutable expression. “I know. You want me at my best.”

“I do.” He pulled his hand away and turned to face the carcass of the giant bear. “Don’t keep me waiting too long.”


	7. [Echo] The Warmth of Ishgard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of the "Echo" chapters! These are meant to provide story-relevant flashbacks or... well, actual Echos experienced by the Warrior of Light.

Summer Ruby could still remember the first time she had met Aymeric in person. He cut a handsome, distinct figure as soon as he came through the doors, Lucia in quiet tow. She had been reluctant at first--a figurehead like him, in this world, was so likely to be hiding something, to be a bad person more like than not. Aymeric had looked at her as soon as he entered the room. Even as he greeted little Alphinaud, his eyes lingered on her. Throughout that whole tense meeting, he kept looking at her. It would have unsettled her, but there was no malice in that gaze. Just a strange warmth and familiarity, as though he truly had been waiting to meet her for a long time. 

She had to admit--she took a quick liking to the man. He wasted little time in proving his trustworthiness to the Scions, and his actions revealed his gentle, noble character. It was several days into their dealings with the troubles of Revenant’s Toll before she and the Lord Commander had any chance to speak alone. At every meeting they were both surrounded by people--Scions, knights, and other hangers on.

She was intent on following little Alphinaud--the lad had scarcely come up to her hip back then--when she had been detained by the Lord Commander.

“Summer Ruby,” he said, a faint tremble in his tone. “If it is not too much trouble, might I have a word with you?” When Alphinaud stopped and crossed his arms in wait, Aymeric added: “In private.”

“Go on ahead, the grown-ups have to talk about grown-up things,” she said to him in a teasing tone. Alphinaud huffed and opened his mouth to protest, but then must have decided it was better not to make a fool of himself in front of the Lord Commander.

“As you wish, Summer. You know where to meet us later, yes?”

“Of course.” She smiled down at him. “Don’t worry, kiddo, I’m pretty sure I can handle myself if he pulls his sword on me.”

Alphinaud’s face pinched in concern at her jest, but he still departed when she waved him off.

She remembered the funny, fond look on Aymeric’s face when she turned away from the closed door.

“You’re kind to him.”

“He’s still just a kid, and his parents aren’t here to keep him out of trouble.” She waved a dismissive hand. “He’s very clever, but not smart enough to keep people from trying to kill him.”

“And you?”

“I can handle myself in a fight.”

Aymeric’s smile had been warm, so very warm. It was different from the polite, restrained thing he flashed at the Scions during the positive outcomes in their business meetings.

“You really are a wondrous woman, aren’t you?”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” She watched as he moved around from the other side of the table. “I’m just another fighter on the battlefields, really. Just doing what I can.”

His smile didn’t falter at her words. “And modest, it would seem. It would not be wrong to give yourself sufficient credit for your deeds.” He stopped in front of her, and had to tilt his head back to look up at her and meet her eyes. “I feel a touch vulnerable in your presence.”

She barked a laugh. “Lord Commander, you’re covered neck to toe in armor. Hardly vulnerable.”

“That wasn’t…” His voice faltered and faded. He looked to the floor for a long moment before looking up again. “I’m not completely covered. Here.” He sounded almost bashful as he held up his right hand, up past his own eye level and closer to hers. Indeed, his arms were covered from elbow to palm in leather and scale and wrought metal, but his fingertips were bare. It initially struck her as an odd choice, but then she recalled something one of the Scions had mentioned of the man.

“Ah.” She took his hand gently in her own, running her fingertips over his, feeling the slight roughness there. “You’re practiced in the bow, too, right?”

His cheeks flushed red at the contact. “Ah, yes. Yes I am. Though, I doubt I am as skilled with it as you.”

She smiled at him. “You’re still alive, so you can’t be all that bad.”

“You flatter me, Warrior.”

“Not at all, Lord Commander.” 

He drew his fingers to his chest when she released his hand, curling his fingers into the royal blue fabric of his sash. “You can call me Aymeric, if you like. I mean--well, when there’s no pretence of formality.”

“Alright. My name’s Summer Ruby. But, you knew that.”

His smile renewed. “It suits you well, Summer Ruby.”

She took a step back, to give the man some breathing room. His cheeks were still red. “So, what was it that you had wanted to discuss with me?”

Aymeric stared up at her with his pale, icy blue eyes, and looked dumbfounded.

“Well…”

“You did have a reason, yes? The others will be cross if I make them wait too overlong.”

“Dinner.”

She blinked. “Dinner? It’s scarcely past time for lunch.”

“No, I mean--” Aymeric opened and closed his mouth a few times, and turned his face away. “If you didn’t object. I would like to have dinner with you some time, should our mutually busy schedules permit. Or drinks, or--” He faltered and shook his head. “No, nevermind. It’s rude of me to impose myself upon your time.”

She was surprised by the request. “I don’t mind, Aymeric.”

“You don't?” He dared to look up at her again. She took his hand again, curling her fingers around his fingertips.

“Not at all. I see no reason to object to your offer. Though, it might take a while.”

“Yes.” The warm smile bloomed anew on his handsome features. He looked at their hands. “Your skin is so warm.”

“Well, naturally. I’m a Hellsguard.”

“Ah. Yes, I suppose the name suggested that, didn’t it.” He covered her hand with his free one. “I like it.”

She had smiled down at him. “Good.”

  
  


It had taken weeks, bloody _weeks_ before they had chanced another time alone together.

It had been late, far into the evening after a strategy meeting. The sky had already gone dark and was cloudless, glimmering with seemingly every star the heavens could muster. Summer Ruby had spent a few minutes discussing some trivial matter with Lord Haurchefant before exiting the building. The Lord Commander was lingering outside, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against a stone wall and stared up at the stars. There was a thoughtless, relaxed look on his face.

She kept her tone light when she called to him. “You’ll get yourself in trouble, letting your guard down like that, my Lord.”

He startled out of whatever reverie his mind had slipped into, and looked at her. “Oh, Warrior.” He paused, waiting as Alphinaud flapped his arms and complained about the frigid night air as he hurried off to the Forgotten Knight. “I hadn’t realized the hour had grown so late. My apologies.”

“I’ve no complaints, Lord Commander. I get to sleep on a bed tonight, and not on the frozen ground.”

“Fair enough.”

She gestured off in the direction of the inn. “I was going to get a drink to warm up before bed. Care to join me?”

“Yes,” Aymeric said immediately. He let out a little gasp, as though the frigid night air had suddenly burned his lungs. “I mean, I would be happy to, Warrior.”

They went to the inn. Summer Ruby had gotten two bottles of ale from the bar and led the way to the little room she was renting.

“I’m tired of being around people right now,” she said in explanation.

He had not argued.

She stoked the fire and then they sat, she on the edge of the bed, he in the old wooden chair by the fireplace. They drank and shared quiet musings over their mutual current situations.

“I don’t know,” she said when her bottle was nearly empty. “Sometimes I just get tired of the endless string of battles. But, I don’t know what else I would do with myself. I’m needed, now. I can’t just walk away, you know?”

His cheeks were flushed. “I do indeed.” Aymeric tipped his face toward the fire. “I enjoy my work. I enjoy fulfilling my purpose in this life. But sometimes I feel very isolated in my position. It’s very…”

“Lonely.”

He nodded. “Yes, lonely. Even though I rarely enjoy a chance to be alone, mind you. There are always so many meetings, so much business to tend to. Knights to lead, fights to be fought. Wounds to mend.” Aymeric brought the bottle back to his lips and took a gulp. “Aye, it’s lonely.”

She watched him drain the last of his bottle and set on the hearth. He looked at her, _stared_ at her for a long moment, before leaning and resting his chin in his palm. It was a little too intense for her, and she looked away from his eyes, trying to look instead at the way the firelight gleamed along the surface of the blue stone that hung from his left ear.

“So, you’re lonely as well, Summer Ruby?”

She nodded. “Usually.”

“I could--” He tapped his fingertips on his lower lip. “I could keep you company for a bit, if you’d like.”

“Well, you’re presently keeping me company, Aymeric.”

He leaned toward her, eyes focusing on her face. “More company, I mean. Private company.”

“Ah.” Now her cheeks flushed. The ale must have been at fault here, loosening the tongue and revealing the intentions of the usually proper Lord Commander.

“I want…” He trailed off before getting to his feet. He stood still for a moment, as though unsure of his balance after the bottle of ale, before taking a step toward her and the bed. “I want to kiss you, Summer Ruby. I’ve wanted to, since we met. Is that odd?”

“Perhaps a bit.” She emptied her bottle and set it on the floor by her feet. “I’m not an Elezen, and I’m sure you could do better.”

“I don’t want another person,” he said, sitting heavily next to her on the bedcovers. “You’re already plenty good. I’ve… I’m always happy to have a meeting with the Scions, because you’re usually there. Seeing you makes me happy.”

She did not know how to accept his compliments. No one had ever given them to her before, not even back home among her own people. “I did not think you’d take a single bottle of ale that hard.”

“A little liquor loosens the tongue,” he murmured.

“Aye, it does.”

He looked up at her. “I still wish to kiss you.”

“You really didn’t have to tell me that, you know. You could have just given it a try.”

“You think so?”

She smiled. “I wouldn’t object.”

“Oh. Good.” He raised his hand, bare fingertips touching her cheek. “Lean in a bit?”

She did as he asked, lessening the distance between them so he did not have to make an arse of himself compensating for her much greater height.

The Lord Commander’s lips were slightly chapped from Ishgard’s persistent cold, but she did not mind. She knew she was likely in no better state. The warm leather covering his palms touched her cheeks as he curled his fingertips toward her temples and kissed her again. 

“I must warn you,” he had murmured against her lips. “In my present state, I might require your assistance in getting out of my armor.”

She had laughed and kissed him. “I think we’ll manage.”

  
  


Aymeric’s armor had been a confusing mess of draping cloth and hidden buckles, and it had nearly foiled the both of them. Summer Ruby had less trouble slipping out of her red coat and light leather armor. They sat next to each other on the bed in their smallclothes, eyeing each other’s bodies. His arousal was obvious to her, but so was his amusing distraction by her appearance.

“You’re massive,” he breathed in wonder. “Like a statue come to life.”

She was too tipsy to even consider being insulted by the remark. Not that she probably would have sober--as a Roegadyn, size jokes were part and parcel of life.

“Bite off more than you can chew, Lord Commander?” she teased. He blushed anew.

“No! No--I mean, I certainly hope I haven’t. You’re just-- _gorgeous_.” He looked up into her surprised face and blinked. “What, didn’t you know that?”

She did not know what to say. No one had ever said that to her, never in her thirty-six years. And now, here was the Lord Commander of the temple knights kneeling on her bed and looking full ready and well to worship her like a new avatar of the Fury.

She’d managed to come back to her senses and smile at him. “Thank you, Aymeric.”

When they were spent they had lain on her bed, he with his head against her breast, ear pinched to the side against the sound of her heartbeat.

“I want to keep seeing you,” Aymeric said. “I mean, not in a professional, saving the country and world sort of way. Just you and I. Like this.”

Her head had still spun with lingering hormones and alcohol. “You know that’s easier said than done, Aymeric.”

“Aye.” His sigh had tickled against her flushed skin.

“But, I would like to see you, too.” She struggled to think of something to say that did not sound silly. Her brain settled on: “I like your smile.”

“Then, I shall do my best to find cause to smile for you.”

“As will I.” She took his hand and ran her thumb along the lines of his palm. “I can write?”

“Hmm?”

She flustered at her own words. “I mean, I’m not some illiterate nomad adventurer. I had an education when I was younger. I could write you a letter now and then, if you wanted. Tell you of my day’s adventures.”

“Ah.” A happy, soft breath escaped him, and he curled his fingers against hers. “I would like that greatly. You do seem to have the most interesting stories.”

“Then, I will.”

And she had, sitting up at camp after the others had gone to sleep, carefully inking out words on parchment, and handing them off to a courier when she had time to go to the city proper. Sometimes, there were letters waiting for her, penned in the Lord Commander’s elegant but hasty scrawl. His words were always pleasant and polite, but as their struggles into the resolution of the war against the dragons carried on, they turned wistful and worried.

_...I worry that our efforts will not find success, even with you on our side, my dearest Warrior of Light. Some nights I find myself paging through my copy of the Enchiridion, searching for answers from above, but nothing comes. ...Thank you for accepting the rosary--I must admit, I know not how your people prefer to worship the Twelve, but I do pray the Fury will keep as valiant a warrior as you under her protection. I pray that she guides your hand in battle, and returns you home safe to me as time permits._

_I would hope you find it in your heart to pray for me as well..._

She was flattered by his gift, and kept the string of icy-blue stones tucked into her armor. The Scions did not see the rosary, did not see her holding it wrapped around her wrist while she wrote her evening missives to him. They did not hear her quiet prayers to the Fury, asking not for her own victory in the next day’s battles, but for the safety of the man who was waiting for her return back in the city. For a time, it seemed that prayers were enough.

And then Haurchefant had died--died saving her. Died saving _them_. 

By her math, that next evening was when Merle had been conceived. Not from comfort sex, no, but more from a desperate need for a distraction from their sorrows and physical injuries. It had taken three bottles of wine and a great deal of intimate activity before they had been able to mutually tire their minds and bodies out. Aymeric had remained pressed against her for the remainder of the night, head on her chest, quietly streaking her breast with his tears. 

Even back then, that night, she had wished for nothing more than the darkness to never end, so that they might linger in relative peace for the rest of their days.

Of course, that was not what any of the Twelve had in mind for them, the Fury least of all, and they had been sent back to the fields of war. Over and over, arrows flying and lances stabbing and swords swinging, while deep down Summer Ruby had just wanted to curl into a ball and _stop_. 

The first missed menses had not concerned her--she was always an active woman and sometimes that had happened. But then the second did not show, and the third was replaced by a gutting nausea that frequently made it hard for her to function. She tried to play it off to the Scions, saying that all the blood and viscera was starting to get to her, and that she was not a soulless automaton with its settings set to ‘murder’. Just a woman who needed a break. But the inability to keep food down consistently made her weak, kept her aether from replenishing properly, and made it increasingly difficult to go into battle. 

After spending a terrifying hour in the middle of a forest with blackness creeping on the edge of her vision, she finally overruled her pride and went to see one of the city chirurgeons. Once the young man had gotten over the honor of getting to help the Warrior of Light, he had listened to her complaints and symptoms. After a bit of dramatic hemming and hawing, he had told her the very simple solution: she was pregnant.

The concoctions of herbs and various potions the chirurgeon issued for her had worked quite well. She supposed that the Elezen were indeed as good at getting pregnant as the alleyway jokes implied, and that had led to them also being quite good at reducing the status’s related side effects. After a day of rest she was back on her feet and back to stabbing her lance into whatever enemy had the misfortune of crossing her path. She kept the information to herself--as did the chirurgeon, under direct threat of her lance and his throat.

She had lain on the ground at night, staring up at the dark sky and its decoration of stars, and wondered what would happen to her, to the child. She was a chosen warrior of the Light--would that blessing react badly to the blessing that Aymeric had given her? Would she even survive the war and live long enough to find out?

So many questions, so many uncertainties, and she had, as ever, felt so very alone. It had driven her on, nearly to the point of madness.

And then, one dark night, the Dragonsong War had ended. She had stood, breathless and leaning over a precipice next to little Alphinaud, watching as Nidhogg’s cursed eyes disappeared into oblivion. She had walked with Alphinaud, arm flung around his narrow shoulders, pressing his cheek into her side as he wept. They trailed behind Aymeric as he somberly toted Estinien’s heavy, limp form away from the bloodied bridge.

She had sat through the festivities that followed, and then decided that she could not bear the burden of knowledge alone any longer. She had to go to Aymeric and tell him the truth, even though she was fearful of his principles and fearful that he might react badly and send her away. Deep down she did not think he would, he was a good and kind man and she loved him and he her and she did not think he would do such things. 

Still, for good or for ill, she had to tell him.


	8. Come Home

“Merle.”

The baby was staunchly ignoring her as he crawled down the hallway. Summer Ruby trailed after him, mindful of the infant’s wandering trajectory. The steward and cleaning staff were doing a good job of keeping the floors clean and clear of anything that a curious traveler might bump into or try to put into his mouth, but she still knew better than to let the child out of her sight. Already the baby seemed quite independent when he wanted to be, and she had enough experience with independent Elezen to know they tended to get themselves into trouble.

When she had pointed this out to Aymeric, he had just smiled and laughed. “Well, I suppose he might take after me in that respect. I was always something of a loner, until I joined the Temple Knights and met an even worse loner who made me realize I needed to work on my social skills.”

“Merle, I’m going to send you away to live with your uncle Esti,” she called to the baby. At this Merle stopped in his travels and dropped his bottom to the stone floor. The baby looked back to her and burbled happily. “I’m taking that as your consent.”

“My Lady, there is a missive for you in today’s deliveries,” the steward announced. She thanked him and took the letter, feeling a bit of apprehension as she unfolded the paper.

It was, to her relief, not another needy call for attention from the crown prince of the Garleans. It was, instead, a needy call for attention from Tataru on behalf of the Scions. She stood next to Merle while she read, half aware of the baby patting at her bare foot. The first part of the letter was the usual politeness--how was she faring, they hoped she was feeling rested, and there was plenty of busywork that she could assist them with if she was getting bored. A few idle, tense words regarding the current situation with Garlemald, and a hope that she would come by sometime to discuss that matter.

“Already informed on that business, thank you,” she muttered.

The remainder of the letter was dedicated to a matter that gave her pause. The Scions, though all still unresponsive, were physically doing well enough. But, something was wrong--that well enough was not as well as it had been a week before, or a week before that. Their souls being absent from their bodies for such an extended period of time was starting to cause them to degrade. Krile had yet to put forth any sort of fanciful answer to the problem. It seemed the best solution was the most obvious--the Scions needed to have their souls returned to their bodies. But, how? They were still trapped across the rift on another world, with no means of return. The letter ended with a request for her aid in the matter, and would she please kindly reactivate her linkpearl to ease communications?

Summer Ruby had deactivated her linkpearl not long after returning to Ishgard, and had admittedly forgotten about the device in the weeks that followed. It had been nice to have that quiet and privacy, and not having to worry about being called upon by the Scions on a daily basis. She already had enough things here in Ishgard that were hounding for her attention.

 _Hounding_. She looked down. Merle had dozed off, a little fat cheek resting peacefully on the back of her foot. She smiled and scooped up the baby. Once he had been safely returned to his crib, Summer Ruby went into Aymeric’s study to retrieve a piece of paper and pencil. She sat at her husband’s writing table, puzzling at the pencil in her hand.

 _I need to tell Zenos that I’m leaving the Source_ , she thought, turning the pencil in her fingers. _But, why_? The man had already admitted to keeping a regular surveillance on the city gates, surely he would just assume she wasn’t going anywhere if he did not see her for a few days. No, she decided, he needed to know that she would be away, so that he did not try to summon her and get cross at her lack of response. There was no guarantee that he would hold to his word and not hurt someone in her absence. She scratched out a simple note on the paper.

_Zenos. I am leaving the area for a few days, business elsewhere. I will return. Please keep out of trouble while I am away. -- SR_

Summer Ruby put on her travelling gear, checked the supplies in her pack, and informed the steward of her departure. The steward promised to give word to Aymeric when he returned later in the day. She kissed her sleeping son goodbye, and then made her way out into the cold. Down and across the bridges, stopping only when she got to the outermost of the Gates of Judgement. She passed her sealed missive on to one of the guards there, with the instructions to deliver it to a man if he came asking for her. She looked out at the snowy fields of the central highlands, knowing that Zenos might be watching even at the moment. Part of her wished he was, so that he would know of her departure.

Message delivered, she continued on her journey.

It took her a moment to adjust to her surroundings when she re-materialized on the First. She kept her eyes closed, waiting for the ringing in her ears to stop. After the first breath she was immediately overwhelmed by the aether of the world around her. It was still tainted with Light, which was no surprise. Still, it made her flesh prickle with the memory of being over-saturated to the point of bursting. She let her mind settle, feeling her awareness of the distant ley points return, the shining markers of the aetherytes. It was strange, she thought. She could still faintly sense the fabricated aetheryte deep under the sea, where Emet-Selch had constructed his memory of Amaurot. That should have been impossible, shouldn’t it?

“Summer?” The Exarch’s voice chimed not far away, and she opened her eyes. He was looking at her, ears quirked inquisitively. “Are you alright?”

“Fine, fine,” she said. “It just takes a little getting used to, that’s all.”

He smiled and nodded. “Good. Some of the Scions sent word that they would be here shortly. You’re free to have a walk about while you wait for them.”

 _Of course I am_ , she thought. _I came here of my own free will. Mostly._

Summer Ruby made her way out of the stifled chamber and nearly all the way to the gates before stopping. Aside from being nodded to by a few guards, no one had paid her any mind. The locals hurried about without heed for her presence.

She looked around at the glimmering structures, the bustle of people, and suddenly felt a surge of homesickness. Yes, she had helped save this world, and helped save the Source in turn, but she did not want to linger here. She wanted to be back in Ishgard-- _that_ was home, and that was the place she wanted to protect.

This world was a gleaming prison--no, a grave. It was where she was to have breathed her last, but instead Emet-Selch had taken her place. Then as now, she was still uncertain as to the equality of the exchange. It was not that she wished to die--far from it, though at the time of that final battle she was in agony and death would have been a kindness. Summer Ruby rubbed her temple and looked around. Familiar faces abounded, but no one to whom she wished to speak. So similar to Doma and Ala Mhigo in that respect.

What had made Ishgard different? Was it something as simple as finding love and a family? Perhaps so, at her age. If she had been one of those young, fiery adventurers she sometimes saw running about and helping with work in the Firmament, perhaps she would have felt something more for the other nations, or for this ruined world. But now she just wanted to go back to the old cold stone city and turn her back on everyone else.

“What is wrong with me?” Summer Ruby murmured to herself. She ran her hands through her hair and touched the base of her ears.

Truth be told, she hadn’t been the same since coming to the First.

Summer Ruby could still recall, with painful clarity, her initial journey to the First. That strange fall through the darkness--the rift, was it?--full of her memories, of those she loved, those lost, of victories and defeats… It had been overwhelming, and the situation had not improved when the fall stopped. She woke up on the ground in that strange, shimmering forest, feeling even more out of sorts than she had when she had finally revived after childbirth. At least when she had woken up that time Aymeric had been there, looking exhausted but happy, protectively cradling their newborn son to his chest.

Here, on the First, she had woken up alone. Her head ached as though it had cracked open on a rock, and in raising her hand to check for a wound she realized two things: First, her skin was far darker than she recalled, as if she’d gotten a very deep tanning, and secondly that there were rabbit ears growing out of her head. 

She had yelped in alarm, stumbled to her feet, lost her balance, and fallen back over again into the pale purple grass. Her fingers felt at the ears again. No, they were definitely not the novelties she had acquired at the Gold Saucer years before. They were completely real, and embarrassingly sensitive even when she was the one touching them. What sort of madness was this? Looking herself over from the safety of the ground, she had determined that nothing else seemed off. Nothing, aside from the fact that she was no longer a Roegadyn, and that her clothes hung loose on her frame. That could prove to be problematic if she ever got out of wherever she had gotten to and got back to Eorzea.

Summer Ruby had eventually regained her balance, and with the aid of a travelling merchant had made her way to the outer guardpost of the Crystarium. After a somewhat hostile greeting from the head guard, she had been met by a small but cheerful figure wearing a black cowl. Despite his politeness, she was immediately suspicious of the fellow, having not had the best of luck with men wearing black cowls over the previous few years.

_Let me first thank you for answering my summons…_

That was all it had taken for her to deck the little cloaked man. 

“Summer!” A voice drew her out of her memories, and back to the gleaming entryway of the Crystarium. It was Alphinaud, hurrying up to her with a smile and politely outstretched hands. Some strange instinct kicked in, and Summer Ruby caught the young man under his armpits and hoisted him up like he was but a child. She tucked her left arm supportively under his bottom.

“Hello, Alphinaud,” she said over his indignant squawk at the pick-up. “Where’s your sister?”

“She’ll be here soon, just put me down before--”

“Oh, no, I need to commit this to memory,” Alisaie said from behind them. She made a show of pressing her pointer fingers to her forehead. “Keep it saved for a good Echo later, Summer.”

“Please put me down,” Alphinaud said piteously. “It was bad enough when you did this when you were a Roegadyn.”

“You need to have your growth spurt,” she said. “I definitely can’t pick Estinien up like this.” She gave him a fond squeeze before setting his feet back on the ground.

“Have you seen him?” Alphinaud glanced up while making a show of straightening out his clothes.

“I have. He was in Ishgard not that long ago. Brought news of the Emperor’s death.”

“The what?!” The twin’s shout echoed through the promenade.

“Oh. That’s right. You’ve been away.” She reached and smoothed Alphinaud’s hair. “Worry about that later.” She smiled at his mutter of thanks. “The stupid old man said I should be expecting a few of the Scions along. Anyone else coming but you two?”

“Urianger and Y’shtola should be along soon enough,” Alphinaud said. “But Thancred and Ryne are busy with some project studying the Empty.”

“Are you still cross with the Exarch?” Alisaie asked, looking up at her keenly.

Summer Ruby folded her arms over her chest. “Of course I am. I’ll explain the full details of _why_ I’m still irritated with him if you ask me again in a decade.”

Alisaie sighed. “That’s a long time to wait for gossip.”

There were plenty of reasons about why she was irritated with the Exarch that she certainly _could_ tell Alisaie. There was the unwanted, unauthorized trip from the Source to the First, the complete reconstruction of her person due to his poor memory, and of course the whole part where he didn’t warn her of the possible consequences of her absorbing the essences of the Lightwardens. Those were all given, obvious things that the others Scions were aware of having happened.

Then there had been the matter of the spying.

She had only been dimly aware that the Exarch might have been keeping eyes on her early on. He always seemed to know where she was in the Crystarium, and where she had gone after leaving. He was a mysterious man and somewhat cagey about sharing the details of all of his knowledge. That had all been well enough, until Emet-Selch had revealed his presence to the Scions and flashed that charming smirk of his at her. Emet-Selch, a man even older and more mysterious and potentially irritating than the Crystal Exarch could ever hope to be. Even him yelling and pointing angrily at her for disrupting the Ascians’ careful plans did nothing to rattle that sense of familiar charm. By this point in her long journey, the Warrior of Light was far too used to men being angry with her. The anger was something she could usually tune out, now.

It had taken him only to that first night to seek her out. She stood at the window to her suite in the Pedants, watching the dark sky, wondering if there might be a way to read the stars for information as there was back on the Source. Despite having only been on the First a short while, she was already feeling lonely and homesick. Not to mention occasionally just sick to her stomach, what she would later realize was an early warning of the adverse effect the Light was having on her body. But that night, she had just felt alone.

“You’ll have to forgive my intrusion,” the Ascian’s voice materialized behind her even as he did. She hadn’t even jumped in surprise. He was just suddenly there, but it was as though he had always been there, like a mis-remembered cloak draped over the back of a chair. “Ah, looking at your handiwork?” His voice had a gentle, melodic cadence to it when he wasn’t angry. “I can’t say I blame you, hero. I tend to dwell in my own creations sometimes.”

“What are you doing here, Emet-Selch?” She’d looked at him, guarded, as he slouched his way to her side and looked out the window.

“Lovely view,” he’d commented. “They must like you.”

“Best room in the house, the Exarch says.” She had frowned. “Ascian, are you just making small talk with me? Don’t you have some better mischief to be getting up to?”

“As luck would have it, I don’t. I made special pains to clear a few hours from my schedule this evening.”

“What for?”

Emet-Selch had smirked at her. “For making mischief with you, my dear hero.”

He was very to the point. She supposed that being nearly a god, an Emperor, and who knew what else would give a man that sort of confidence.

“What sort--” He had shushed her, pressing a gloved fingertip to her lips. Emet-Selch had stared at her--no, into her eyes, one then the other, then back to the first.

“You have beautiful eyes, hero,” he said, tone admiring yet clinical. “The red especially. Strangely familiar that one. I should like to pluck it out and keep it with me.”

She had leaned away and pressed a hand to his chest. “I’ll pass, thanks. I need both eyes intact.”

Emet-Selch had chuckled. “Oh, I was speaking in jest, of course. I wouldn’t take such an important thing from you, not while you still need it.” His gloved hands moved to capture the hand on his chest. “I just want the rest of you, tonight.”

“I’ll have you know I can quite easily break that body’s neck,” Summer Ruby had growled in warning.

“Come now, I wasn’t going to ravage you. Ravish, maybe, if you play along properly.” He’d flashed a coy little smile and tipped his head to the side. “I know you’re homesick and lonely, and while I cannot help you with the homesick part just yet, I can certainly stave off that aching loneliness in your breast.” He had winked. “And other areas.”

“You really are convinced of your own allure, aren’t you?”

“I’ve had plenty of time to get good at it, so… yes.” He released her hand and stepped away. “Look, I know all your compeers are practically feral with their desire to be rid of me, but you strike me as someone more reasonable, someone who might at least be willing to parley with me in private.”

“And, why is that?”

He’d squinted at her, and then shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. Something about your soul.” His fingers reached to brush a lock of hair from her face. “Perhaps just an old man’s mental doddering.”

“It’s late, Emet-Selch. Tell me what you want.”

“It is as I said. I want to distract you from your loneliness for the evening.” Emet-Selch gestured at the bed. “Sexually is always the most straightforward course for that.”

She looked at the bed and thought of Emet-Selch's offer. Did it really count as being unfaithful when she was lonely and stranded on a completely different world? Whatever happened on the First could well stay there, and Aymeric need never know… Seven hells, she must have well and truly been either insane or lonesome to even consider the Ascian’s overture.

“Nothing too crazy,” she’d acquiesced. “We’re scheduled to leave for the Greatwood in the morning.”

The Ascian had closed the window with a sly look. “I can only make guarantees for my part of the performance.”

It had been the next morning, after their briefing before departing for the Greatwood, that the Crystal Exarch had revealed a part of his hand that Summer Ruby wished he hadn’t. He waited until the others had all left.

“I wanted to ask you, Summer… Do you think it’s wise?”

She had been rubbing at her hip and contemplating the need to heal a few bruises that she’d woken up with that morning. “What’s that, Exarch?”

He’d hesitated, cloaked head briefly turning to the portal before looking back at her. “Letting yourself get too _familiar_ with your enemy.”

It really would not be appropriate to repeat the swear words she’d used at the Exarch to Alisaie when she was still at a rather young and impressionable age. Her stunted conversation with the Exarch had ended with she playing a card of her own.

She’d loomed over him, shoving a finger in his face. “You are lucky that we are not on the Source, because if _my husband_ found out about your peeping tommery I am quite certain he would have you chucked off the top of the Tower.”

A distraught, choked noise had escaped from under the Exarch’s cowl. “Y-your _husband_?”

“Yes, my very loving husband whom you have stolen me away from.” She’d stomped her heel. “So kindly leave me to my own fucking business.”

They had never discussed it again, although she was still certain that the old man had continued to spy on her through his portal. He had always been a bit strained in the mornings after Summer Ruby actually had the time to spend the night in her suite. That would have been Emet-Selch’s fault, as the Ascian never missed a chance to interrupt her private time at the Crystarium. They often sat and occupied _hours_ with friendly prattle, more often than not avoiding the sensitive subject of their opposing works. His rambling words would turn into gloved fingers walking up her thigh while he whispered sweet things in a language she did not quite understand, and that her Echo refused to translate. Then he would take her, rough at first, but as days went by and her condition deteriorated, so did his aggression. And she let him, oh she _let_ him, because it was lonely at the top of the food chain and his quiet adoration and company were what she needed on that broken world more than anything else. Emet-Selch was the only thing familiar, the only thing that felt like home, and she accepted this even though she did not understand its cause.

Summer Ruby thought about this while the Scions assembled, but the Exarch thankfully didn’t spend too much time gazing at her with quiet longing. She wasn’t sure she liked being here anymore, when there was no chance that Emet-Selch might randomly invite himself to a meeting, just to get on the Scions’ nerves with his helpfulness. It just was not the same here anymore--the beauty and life and Light all ran hollow now that the Ascian’s darkness had gone and taken all the subtlety and shadow with it. The First felt no better off now than it had months before. Such improvements would take lifetimes, and she did not want to linger here that long. They could make do without her.

When it was time, she relayed to those gathered of the perilous state of the souls of the Scions. Discussions of how to get their souls back to the Source eventually led to the idea of using white auracite to transport a soul across the rift. The thought of using white auracite made her cringe internally. She could not hear the thing invoked without it bringing to mind the fate of Emet-Selch, of the shattered auracite ripping holes into his being.

“There must be another way,” she said.

“We’re open to any suggestions, Summer,” Y’shtola said. They all looked at her expectantly, which honestly she thought a bit silly as she’d never really been the one among the group to come up with brilliant ideas. She’d always been their brawn, not the brains.

Summer Ruby looked at the portal that led back to the Source. It was a strange, specific doorway that let her pass through, but no one else. So, the worlds were still attached, as they always had been, for thousands of years. She thought of the burning Light that had nearly killed her, and how it was meant for the Source. It would have been fed from First to Source, like a child spreading poison to its mother through the umbilical cord.

“Ah,” she said, a thought striking her. “We may not need something as complicated as the white auracite.” She ignored Urianger’s noise of protest and opened the pack she had brought with her. Rooting around, she produced a pair of nearly clear crystals.

Alphinaud muttered: “Unaspected crystals? Why are you still carrying those things around?”

“I think,” she said, “a Scion could imprint some of their aether onto a crystal. Then I could take the crystal back to the Source, back to their body. That would create a link, a small tether along the aetheric current that flows between the worlds. They could be called back that way.”

The Exarch smiled as he gave a thoughtful hum. “That isn’t too terrible of an idea, Summer. However, we would need a volunteer to put themselves at risk in testing its execution.”

“I’ll do it,” the twins said in unison. Alphinaud sputtered at his sister while she shook her head at him.

“‘Tis truth,” the Exarch said. “One of you would most likely make the best candidate, as a stronger emotional bond would help your soul hear her summoning you back to the Source.”

“I’m not emotional,” Alphinaud said.

“You are, but that isn’t what the Exarch meant,” Alisaie said. “He meant like a familial bond. We love Summer like family, right?”

“Oh. Yes, I suppose so.”

“She certainly treats you like her child,” Y’shtola said, smirking. Alphinaud made a wounded noise and shook his head.

“No, that isn’t what I meant.” He looked up at Summer Ruby and smiled his sweet little smile. “What I meant was that, were I to have to trust someone to call my soul across the rift, the only person I would trust to the task other than my sister is Summer.”

After further bickering between the twins, it was decided that both would imprint on a crystal.

“Are you not staying here longer?” Y’shtola asked as they watched the Elezen focus on their task. Summer Ruby shook her head.

“No. I have business on the Source that I need to attend to. I can’t stay.”

Y’shtola’s blind eyes gave her a searching look. “There were a few things here on the First that could still benefit from your assistance--”

“No,” she repeated sharply. “Besides, I’ll have to come back eventually to get the rest of you, won’t I? Surely you’re not ready to leave behind Runar and the Blessed already?”

The younger woman hesitated and looked away, ears flicking back. “I understand your point.”

“Are thou surest thou will be able to discern the difference betwixt their souls once returned to the Source?” Urianger looked concerned as the twins handed the crystals to Y'shtola.

“They look to be properly charged,” she said. “And while I can tell the difference in their individual aethers, are you sure you can, Summer?”

Summer Ruby huffed softly. “Of course I can. Why wouldn’t I be able to?” In this bold claim, she had some confidence. She was rather certain she knew the twins well enough. Even though she could not make wild claims of knowing the color of someone’s soul or their aether, she could still feel the characteristics of the aether of those close to her when she focused. Aymeric’s aether, like an extension of him, warm at her back while they slept, steadfast despite an undercurrent of worry, and spiced with his affections. Little Merle, his aether still soft and fresh and developing, gentle and content with the world, and sparked similarly to his father’s when she held the baby in her arms. Aether was just an extension of a creature’s soul, of their personality. 

“A quick test, then.” Y’shtola held out the crystal in her right hand. “Which of our companions did the aether in this crystal come from?”

She took the crystal in palm and closed her eyes, focusing as though trying to attune to the thing. _A flush of warmth, determined and confident, but also a touch worried._ “Alisaie.”

“Are you sure?”

“Give me the other one.” She took the second crystal in her other hand and focused again. _Nervous, worried that they were going to mess this up, not wanting to disappoint, but wanting this to work because they had concerns on the Source--_ “Yes. This one is Alphinaud.”

“How can you tell?” the boy in question asked. She smiled down at him, keeping the look a bit intentionally cryptic.

“Perhaps something akin to a mother’s intuition.” She looked to Y'shtola. “I was right, yes?”

“You were.” The mage sighed and shook her head. “If we cannot convince you to stay for now, I suppose all we can do is wish you the best of luck.”

Summer Ruby nodded and looked to the twins. “You’re both sure that there isn’t anything you’ve left undone here?”

“I would not have volunteered to go first had I any remaining business to attend to,” Alisaie said. Alphinaud nodded in agreement.

“I would be lying were I to say I would not be leaving some friends behind, but I am also ready to go.”

“Very well.” She reached and ruffled Alphinaud’s hair. “I’ll see you two soon.”

Summer Ruby tarried no longer on the First. She said her good-byes to the Exarch and the Scions, made promises to come back soon enough, and then hurried back through the portal to the Source. When she emerged from the shadow of the Crystal tower the sky of Mor Dhona was roiling with thick magenta clouds. The gloom made her skin prickle uncomfortably. That was strange, she thought. She had spent an excessive amount of time in Mor Dhona over the last two years, and the gloom had never caused her discomfort before. 

A faint tingle danced along the skin of her left brow, and reflexively she clenched her jaw. She waited, but thankfully no pain came this time. Summer Ruby looked around the twisted crags of rock and crystal, half expecting to find her Garlean shadow lurking about. But no, there was no sign of Zenos today, just a few of Garlond’s men working behind her in the tower, and a handful of adventurers milling about with pickaxes. 

She made the trek to Revenant’s Toll on foot, as the idea of teleporting during an aether storm made her nervous. Luckily for the sake of her own comfort, by the time she had made it to town the sky had cleared, and so had her head.

“You’re back a lot sooner than we expected!” Tataru greeted her when he finally made it to the Rising Stones. “I hope that’s a good thing.” She fidgeted. “How was everyone? How did they take the news? Did they send any messages for me?”

Summer Ruby waited for the lalafell to run out of breath before she tried to speak. “I didn’t really stay long enough to get anything to bring back.” She set her pack on the bar and opened one of the pockets. “Tell me, Tataru. Of the twins, which one could you stand losing more if this goes wrong?”

“The twins? What goes wrong? What are you talking about?”

“We--well, I--am going to try something to bring the twins home. But, there’s no guarantee that it will work.”

“You’re going to try something without testing it first?” Tataru was aghast. “You could kill one of them! Or both!”

“I know. They volunteered.”

The lalafell made an uncertain noise as she cast a look to a side door. “We need both of them, Summer, you know that.”

She nodded. “Don’t worry. If aught seems amiss I will stop what I’m doing.” Summer Ruby retrieved the two charged crystals. They were still warm. “Tell you what, Tataru. The twins are likely to be hungry when they wake up. Or, thirsty at the least. Why don’t you fetch something for them?”

“Are you sure you don't need any assistance? Krile stepped out for a bit, but I could call her back.” She gestured at her linkpearl.

Summer Ruby smiled and shook her head. “If anything, I will need some quiet.”

“Oh, yes. You’re right, Summer. That’s a lovely idea! I’ll see if we have any broth left over. And some water, of course. They probably won’t be ready for tea right away.”

She left Tataru to her task and made her way to the room where the bodies of the Scions were being kept. It was a morbid term, she thought as she crept quietly into the room, but perhaps an accurate one. The air in the room felt to her as though all the aether had been sucked out of it, and perhaps it had. Was that what it took to keep a soulless body alive? She had no idea. 

The Scions all slept in soulless slumber, one to a bed, except for the twins. She puzzled as she looked at them all, as she had grown accustomed to their appearances on the First. They all looked younger, like echoes of their own pasts. How hard would it be for them to return to the Source, after having been gone so long? Again, she was struck with not knowing. 

_They’ll be fine_ , she thought. _The Scions have always taken care of each other_. And she? Well, she had always been a different matter. A member of the family, certainly, but her time on the First had left a rift in her heart that she was not ready to address. She was not certain when she would ever be ready to look them all in the eye again.

“It was so much simpler when we were just killing primals,” she murmured to herself.

The twins looked peaceful enough, Alphinaud more than his sister. Alisaie had been so distraught at the moment of her collapse that it remained ghosted on her features. Summer Ruby pressed a hand to the girl’s cheek. It was warm, but just barely. 

She sang softly as she prised the girl’s fingers open: “Rise, my little children, ‘tis far too long you’ve slept, the world toils on without you, and you are still abed…” Something fluttered in her chest as she thought of her own child, safe back in Ishgard. “The birds all sang their songs and flew to bluer skies. So open your eyes and rise, before the day is gone.”

It was distressing how stiff they were, how difficult it was just to open their hands enough to place the aether charged crystals into their rigid grasps. She told herself: _this is just temporary. They’ll be back soon. They’ll be fine._

Summer Ruby looked between the two before rounding the bed and covering Alphinaud’s hands with her own. She had considered this act while walking through Mor Dhona. How did one call a soul across the Rift? She could have asked the Exarch for more specifics on what he had done, but she did not have the excessive magical and aetherial reservoirs that he had tapped into for the reverse trip. This was something she would have to do on her own.

 _If you truly care for them as your children, it should be no trouble to call them home_.

She opened her eyes at the soundless words. “Ah. Yes.” She stooped, pressing a kiss to the boy’s knuckles. “Alright, Alphinaud. I hope you’re ready.”

Summer Ruby thought, her mother’s voice coming to mind. She recalled, dimly, from some thirty years distant, playing with her twin sister amongst the fiery grounds of their home in Abalathia. _The gates to the Underworld lie here_ , the elders said, _be mindful of strangers you may meet_. That had not stopped their games, but she could recall the days when the winds drew the mists of the Sea of Clouds too close, and the sky darkened with rain. She remembered her mother’s voice, a beckoning cry across the mountains, calling for them to come home and out of the rain.

She closed her eyes, focused a bit of her aether into the crystal clasped tightly beneath their fingers, and _called_ . With her heart she called, as a mother into the stormy night, her aether a lantern held aloft against the darkness of the rift. _Come home, Alphinaud Leveilleur. You have tarried long enough. Come home…_

She called for what felt, in her head, like a very long time. And then, a pulse of heat sparked through her fingers, and the body beneath them twitched with a faint gasp.

Summer Ruby opened her eyes and looked down at the little Elezen. His mouth was open, slightly agape like a landed fish. He was still immobile otherwise.

She said, soft and tentative: “Alphinaud?”

A faint whimper escaped his lips. She squeezed his hand.

“It’s alright, Alphinaud. I just need to know that you’re in there. Then you can rest.” She watched his brow furrow as he struggled to do aught more than open and close his mouth. “Just say ‘aye’, child.”

Another moment of struggle, then: “Aye.”

Summer Ruby kissed his forehead. “There’s a good lad. Rest now while I fetch your sister.”

Alisaie’s soul answered her summons far more quickly than her twin had, as though she had been pacing about in wait, anxious as her brother disappeared and left her alone once more. Her dark blue eyes opened immediately, rolling about until they fixated on her summoner’s face.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. Alphinaud is here. Just resting, as should you.” Summer Ruby took one of her hands and placed it gently on her brother’s arm. Alisaie grit her teeth, tears gleaming in her eyes as she remained fixated on her face. She sighed softly, knelt next to the bed, and placed her cheek next to the girl’s on the pillow. “Oh, Alisaie. It’s alright. Rest a bit. I will be here when you wake up.”

Three days passed before Summer Ruby returned to Ishgard. Aymeric learned of her return firsthand, as he sat in the main hall of the Congregation, going over personnel reports with Ser Handeloup. The main door to the Congregation opened, and in strode the Warrior of Light herself, garbed in her travelling gear. Aymeric immediately got to his feet, prompting an amused snort from the elder knight.

“You don’t even bother trying to hide your emotions around her anymore, do you, Ser?”

Aymeric cleared his throat: “I don’t think I can, no.”

“Come now, Ser Handeloup. Certainly you can permit the Lord Commander some small happiness in his day? I doubt he has much other cause to smile.”

Handeloup looked at him, arching a brow. “I suppose not, Miss Ruby.”

“And how is your little daughter, Ser Handeloup? Still a handful?”

“And a half,” he said with a bright smile. “This week she wants to be a warrior. She’s been terrorizing the cats with a broom.”

Summer Ruby chuckled. Aymeric cleared his throat.

“My friend, it’s good to see you again,” he said. “What brings you to us this afternoon?”

She made a show of shrugging. “I was just passing by and thought I would stop in to get out of the cold.” She crossed her arms. “That, and I had some news to deliver to the Lord Commander from the Scions.”

“Ah.” He looked at Handeloup. “Let us take a break from this work for a short while, Ser Handeloup. I would like to discuss this matter with Summer in private.”

“Aye, my Lord. I’ll go stretch my legs.” Handeloup half-bowed and excused himself from the room.

Aymeric waited until the knight had departed before hurrying around to the other side of the table. His wife was slouching now, and weariness wrote itself into the finer lines of her face. He touched her shoulders, and feeling no malignant tension there, slid his hands up to her face. She closed her eyes and leaned into the touch.

“My darling, are you alright? You look exhausted.”

“Then my appearance does not deceive you,” she said.

“Have you gone and returned from the First already? You’ve scarcely been gone long enough for me to pine over your absence.” Her eyes cracked open, and she gave him a weary smile. Aymeric smiled in return, feeling flush with his admiration and affection for her. “Tell me?”

“I did not stay long on the First,” Summer Ruby said. “When I returned to the Source, I was able to successfully help return the souls of the Leveilleur twins to their bodies. They are awake and recuperating.”

This was a pleasant surprise, and Aymeric was glad to hear good news for once. “That’s fantastic, Summer. But, why did you not stay with them?”

“Alphinaud and Alisaie just need rest for now, and they will be well tended to at the Rising Stones. My presence was not needed.” She uncrossed her arms and pressed her palms to his elbows. Her touch was still warm through the leather and padding. “I just wanted to come home.”

“And I am glad to have you home.” He pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “But, you do look exhausted, my love. Why not go back to the manor? Surely you have earned a moment of repose.”

“I wanted to see you first, Aymeric.”

He smiled. “You flatter me. I will do my best not to dawdle in my duties for the remainder of the day. When I get home, we’ll have supper, and you can tell me how you managed such a miraculous feat as to call two souls across the great rift.”

She kissed at his cheek, and then the hair over his brow. “I will be waiting for you, my dear.”

“My heart will hasten to thy side.”


	9. To Bite Down

[[She sat at her desk, reviewing the report in front of her for, what, the third time? She had lost track of her work, lost track of the time, could only tell that it had gotten late by the blanket of black outside her office window.

Two knocks sounded at her door, the only warning she got before it opened and he let himself into her office. Emet-Selch was smiling, which was odd for him.

“Matrisiram, my love, whatever are you doing?” He tutted softly. “You’re going to be late for your first meeting.”

“I just wanted to finish vetting this report--” She sighed as he grabbed the papers from her hand.

“If you have taken your hand to it already, I’m sure it’s a polished masterpiece,” he said, still smiling. “Come along, I promised the others I would bring you with me.” His fingertips brushed the edge of her mask. “I still don’t know why you chose a black mask. Red is traditional for the Convocation.”

“Red on red on red is tacky, Hades,” she said with a laugh. He pinched at her chin.

“It would still be lovely on you. The black looks like a raven.”

“I like ravens,” she said, “They’re clever and elegant.”

He chuckled. “What am I saying, then? The mask suits you perfectly.”

“Cheeky,” she said. She held out her right hand to him, and he was swift to take it in his left. A soft, pleased noise bubbled from his throat.

“Oh, that’s still so nice.” He squeezed her hand as his free hand brushed the mess of his hair back underneath his cowl. “Come, Matrisiram, your eager public awaits.”]]

In the dark, she lay in bed, Aymeric’s arms firm around her middle, face pressed into the back of her neck. Bad dream night, then, she mused. And what of her own dream? Why was it that even in death Emet-Selch managed to find a way into her head? The guilt, most likely--here she was safe and warm in bed with her husband, and Emet-Selch was dead because of her. She wanted to get out of bed, to pace the quiet halls until she escaped her remorse. But Aymeric’s grip was tight, and she could not bear to move. So there she remained, desperately trying not to think of the Ascian until sleep finally reclaimed her for its own.

By morning the dream had all but faded from her mind, and she was only left with the slight feeling of uncertainty that came with thinking of the dead Ascian. She tried, as before, to tell herself that she was still recovering from and processing her ordeal on the First. It had only been a handful of weeks; it was to be expected that the fate of Emet-Selch weighed so heavily on her mind. This had not been the case for her past foes, though. She hadn’t thought twice at killing the father of her own lover, hadn’t cared after putting so many faceless Garleans to the lance, and could think of a few men she would gladly kill again were she given the chance. She had been bothered by Zenos’ death, yes, but had been too exhausted at the time to dwell upon his fate. Only the death of Emet-Selch at her hands had nagged her for so long.

This matter was still on her mind when she left the warmth of her bed to start the day. Summer Ruby did not have to check on her son, as little Merle had been staying with Ser Orage since her departure for the First earlier in the week. So she made her way to the dining hall. The fireplace was already properly stoked, and the room was pleasantly warm. Aymeric was seated at his usual place at the long table, though his eyelids were heavy and his head listed to the side. She went to him, rather than taking her proper seat across the table.

“Bad dreams last night?” she asked, pressing a hand to his cheek.

“The Vault again,” he murmured, rubbing his cheek against her skin, as though it were a better source of warmth than the fire. “Not as bad this time. I didn’t get outside before I woke up.”

Summer Ruby brushed his hair back with her free hand and kissed his forehead. “I wish there was something more I could do for you, Aymeric. Anything at all.”

He exhaled in a small sigh. “Simply having you here doing naught at all is a greater comfort to my mind and heart than you could ever know. You do not have to _do_ anything, Summer. You never have.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t wish I could.” She murmured against his skin. “I would do absolutely anything to keep you safe.”

“Coming from the Warrior of Light, those words mean more than any coin I could pull from the city’s coffers.”

“And from your wife?”

Aymeric looked up at her, blue eyes dull and clouded with fatigue. “Worth beyond measure.”

“Good.” She trailed her lips down over his nose and to his mouth. His kiss tasted of coffee, bitter and black. “Perhaps you should take the morning off. Get some more rest.”

“Would you stay with me if I did?”

She blinked. “Of course I would. Aymeric, why wouldn’t I?”

“I just--” Her husband, usually so well spoken, faltered and tucked the crown of his head against her throat. “I fear that you grow listless, and that there is little keeping you here in Ishgard. The whole realm needs you, wants for your aid. What right do I have to want to keep you bound here in tedium?”

“Oh, I… Aymeric.” She touched the tip of his left ear. “Trust me, love. I’m an adult. If I get bored, I will find something to do. If the realm calls for me, I will aid as I can. And then I will come back home. I promise you.”

His words were half muffled by the collar of her dressing gown. “Whenever you leave, I always worry. Someday you will leave and never return, and I know not what I will do when that happens.”

“That is just part of my duty,” Summer Ruby said. She hoped that the bitterness she felt at this statement did not creep into her voice. “When the world calls me away, and I must fight to keep everyone safe, believe me when I say I would much rather be here.”

“I thought you enjoyed combat,” he murmured.

“I do. But fighting everyone else’s battles is wearisome. Are my own not enough for--” She forced her teeth together, unable to condemn the god--nay, the _primal_ \--that had given her power. “If I were to die in battle, I would rather it be here in Ishgard. Were an enemy to come for us, I would cut them all down on my own.”

“I’d rather you not die at all.”

“Men die that others may live,” she said. “Those who survive are stronger for it. If I should die defending Ishgard, then that is a death I could accept.”

Aymeric pulled away from their embrace, a frown gracing his lips as he looked up at her. “You are not a knight, Summer. You do not need to uphold such things.”

“You would rather fight and die on my behalf?”

“Yes. That is the oath I gave to Halone. You know that.”

She sighed and shook her head. “I have already had one good man of Ishgard, one good knight, die to save me. I would not take another, even if he has sworn to be my shield.” She touched his cheek, trying to smooth the distress from her husband’s handsome face. “If you insist on taking up thy sword for Ishgard, let it be at my side, or not at all.”

“Would that there were no further need for fighting, but that is not the world in which we live.” Aymeric closed his eyes and heaved a breath. “I just do not want to lose you.”

“You won’t Aymeric. My heart shall remain at thy side, even when my body cannot.”

They ate breakfast, and then after sending word to the Congregation, returned to bed for the remainder of the morning. Aymeric slept peacefully, snuggled into her side, and the afternoon found him in much less dour spirits than the morning had. Summer Ruby was, as usual, left to her own devices once Aymeric had departed for his afternoon meetings with the House of Lords. She was contemplating retrieving Merle from the Nanny when a courier came to the manor. Summer Ruby was initially puzzled when a frazzled looking little Elezen girl knocked on the door to the Borel household. She reached the door just after the steward, and peered over the man’s shoulder while he took a folded piece of parchment from the child.

“It’s for you, Lady Summer Ruby,” the steward said after closing the door.

“I wasn’t expecting mail,” she said. The missive was cold in her hands. It was, most likely, another call to action. Strange, though, one of the Scions usually called on her Linkpearl or came in person.

She wasn’t going to admit she’d put the Linkpearl into a drawer when she returned from retrieving the twins from the First and ignored it since then. That might have driven someone to send a letter--Alphinaud more than likely, as Alisaie was more the yelling in person sort.

Summer Ruby went to the sitting room and unfolded the letter. It was scrawled on the paper with pencil in a careful, precise hand.

‘ _The Hunter calls for you, blessed beast. We must not let you go to waste before the world ends once more. You know where to find me_.’

She frowned, running her thumb over the text.

“Persistent,” she muttered under her breath. She turned and called out the door to the steward. “Fetch my coat. I’m going out.”

“Out, my Lady? Do I need to call on the Lord Commander for you?”

“What? No.” She shook her head. “No, just my coat. I’m going for a walk.”

“As you wish.”

That was one troublesome thing about being in her husband’s household, and not mucking about in the wilds somewhere. It was very difficult to just sneak out without someone noticing. If she wanted to go out and shoot targets or go to the shops to get more materials for gear repairs or even just to go out for an afternoon stroll--someone always had to know. Heavens forbid that something bad should happen and they didn’t know where to immediately find the Warrior of Light. The Scions would have been quick to point out that a linkpearl would have alleviated this concern, but Summer Ruby would have to argue that the technology had _not_ been designed with a Viera in mind.

Summer Ruby did not know what Zenos wanted, not this time, but she knew that going out and speaking with him was usually enough to keep him out of Ishgard proper. Out of her city, away from her family, and generally out of harm’s way. That was the whole point of their agreement.

It was sound enough logic, ignoring the fact that Zenos was the source of harm.

Summer Ruby teleported to the Fallgourd Float aetheryte, and then made her way down to the location where she had met the prince previously. She, at least, assumed that this was the place his vague note was implying she should make herself in attendance. She looked around the spot where she had found the prince during their previous meeting. No sign of the man. Progressing south along the slope also showed no sign of someone waiting for her. Had she perhaps picked the wrong meeting spot? What other meeting spot might there be? The middle of the forest in--

A strong arm coiled around her middle and squeezed, hard, nearly lifting her off the ground. She yelped, and drove her elbow backwards into the ribs of her assailant. She was dropped to the ground, and scrambled to her feet with a fist raised.

Zenos was half hunched over, wheezing with laughter, his hand pressed lightly to his chest.

“You asshole!”

He coughed and righted himself, holding a hand out as though to keep her at bay. “I was going to chastise you for not coming armed, but that elbow of yours is devastatingly sharp.”

She sighed and took a breath, trying to stop the furious pounding in her breast. “Ass.”

Zenos took a hold on her fist and gently pushed it down. “My apologies. I could not resist an open target.”

She felt the inkling of a smile on her lips but quashed it down. “I have to admit, I did not know you were capable of laughing in a way that didn’t sound sinister.”

He shrugged, the mirth already fading from his expression. “I can laugh if something strikes me as sufficiently humorous. And you making a sound like a hare in a snare was definitely humorous.” He rubbed at the spot where she had elbowed him. “You may have cracked a rib.”

“Good,” she muttered.

Zenos had calmed now. He squinted at her attire and gave a disapproving grunt. “I don’t like the blue.”

She touched the front panel of her coat. “I do. I’m rather fond of it.”

“It doesn’t suit you. Red is a better color on you.”

She sighed and shook her head. “Lucky that I did not come for your fashion advice.”

He grunted again. “Why dampen the lovely red with such a dull, boring color?”

“It is not a boring color. It is the color of House Borel. My house, now.”

“Ah. You wear your husband’s colors to irritate me, then.”

“No--well, that wasn’t the original intention, but if it has that effect, too, then I won’t complain.”

Zenos grimaced and crossed his arms. “Such cruelty from the Warrior of Light.”

“Yes, well. Sometimes cruelty is a kindness. What did you call me here for?”

“You were kind enough previously to extend word that you were leaving the realm,” he said. “I was curious of your venture. You do not look any worse for wear.”

“Oh. It wasn’t a very long trip. I... I didn’t feel like staying for very long.”

“Is that so? No attachment to the world you saved?”

“Not as much as some might hope.” She gestured at him. “I mean, you saved every soul in Eorzea from being killed by your father, even if it was just to keep me alive. Would I be wrong to say you don’t care about the people you saved?”

She knew the answer without asking, but it was still worth it for the _are you stupid_ expression that slipped onto the prince’s face. “You would not.”

Summer Ruby nodded in understanding. She knew Zenos thought little of his action. He did not really care that it was his own father that he had slain. He cared only for the outcome. He had saved the Scions and the Alliance a great deal of trouble trying to figure out what to do about the Black Rose problem, but to him it was nothing. Just something he had to do to further his own goal.

“So, what took you to the First?”

“Ah, well, as you might’ve heard, the Scions were separated from their bodies when they went to the First. It’s just their souls present on that world. But the separation is causing their bodies to deteriorate. I returned to the First to relay them this information, and to work on a means of returning their souls safely to the Source.”

“And yet you chose not to linger where your compatriots are.”

She frowned. “Ever since the death of Emet-Selch, the First has felt more and more a tomb whenever I visit. It is still a condemned world, despite being saved from immediate danger. I don’t like-- I don’t like being there with reminders of the Ascian.”

Zenos loomed over her, a frown cracking his usually passive facade. “Do you have a fetish for men in power, or is it just coincidence?”

 _Oh, that’s rich, coming from you_. Insult prickled at her mind. “If anything, it seems to be the other way around. Powerful men are drawn in by the allure of a powerful woman. Though, for good or ill seems to depend on the man.”

Zenos grimaced. “And what, pray tell, did my great-grandsire want of you?”

Summer Ruby thought of the late hours spent with the Ascian. “We talked a lot. He was lonely, and I was lonely, and he was so strangely easy to just _talk_ to. I’d tell him about my adventuring, and he would tell me about things he did as Solus...” She wasn’t sure Zenos needed to know about the rest of it, but still added: “And, yes, we were intimate as well. Just part of staving off the loneliness, really.” She sighed. “All that, and he was still just manipulating me to his own ends the whole time. I think I knew, and let him do it all the same.”

The prince’s nose wrinkled. “Lonely? Him I could understand, but how could you possibly be lonely? You were sent to the First with your fellow Scions, were you not?”

“I was, yes. But Zenos, surely you have sat upon your throne with a room full of soldiers, or stood on a battlefield, and felt completely alone?”

He squinted down at her, radiating disapproval. “Feeling alone never bothered me.”

 _No, it’s the boredom that eats you up inside._ “I’m not sure you’d know the difference.”

He ignored her muttered words. “Is that what keeps you bound to that _husband_ of yours, then? Your _loneliness_? Is that all it takes?”

“What, no, I lo--”

Zenos moved in closer. “Then perhaps I will have to take you from him, and claim you for myself.”

He leaned in, a hawk swooping on its prey, lips roughly to hers. She pushed him away and shook her head.

“No--”

Zenos crashed upon her again, slamming her back into the closest tree. She grimaced at the discomfort as much as the follow up kiss. Summer Ruby’s hands fumbled to his shoulders, gripping as tightly as she could and swinging him into the next tree over. 

He tipped his head back into the rough bark, letting out a panting laugh.

“Oh, yes, there you are! My little wild rabbit--I knew you were no husk!”

“You miserable ass!” Summer Ruby lurched forward and rose up on her toes, teeth latching onto his exposed throat, jaw clenching until she tasted blood. She heard him groan and felt his body shudder against hers. His right hand caught the back of her head, holding her in place as she started to pull away, and his left hand grasped where her thigh became her hip to prevent her from losing her balance. Zenos’ tongue snaked out and caught on the line of blood trailing from her lip and down her chin.

“You are truly beautiful like this, with my blood on your teeth.” His fingers curled against her scalp. “I can see why so many rush to rut with you.”

His gaze was intense and terrifying. She pulled against his grip, and finding herself unable to move, let go of his shoulder to shove her hand between their faces.

“No,” she spat, covering his right eye with her palm and pushing his face away. “Bad dog.”

He let out another laugh, something bubbling and delirious. “Ah, yes, I’ll be your bad dog if you need me to, rabbit!”

“No, you--” Summer Ruby growled in frustration. “By the Twelve! You really don’t even have the first clue of how to even _pretend_ to be a normal person!”

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand away, fixing her again with his cold gaze. “I have no need of being a normal person. Nor do you.” He narrowed his eyes. “At least I do not play pretend at it like a child. I know what I am. You are the one content to put on your petticoats and make the Lord Commander _tea_ . You are the one wanting to play _housewife_ while there are battles to be fought.”

His words were shots taken into the undergrowth to flush out prey, and they stung at her.

“There is nothing wrong with wanting to be with those I love. Aymer--”

He sneered and snapped at her. “What do _you_ even know of love? Did you love the Lord Commander before you _had_ to, before you had to own up to the results of the tryst you had?”

“Of course I--”

“Don’t lie to me, woman. What do you even know? You’ve just as much blood on your hands as I do--what makes you any less a loveless monster than I?”

She stared at the blood on his neck. She did not know how to truthfully refute his bitter question. She sagged and rested her forehead against his shoulder.

“I thought so,” he said.

“I do love him,” she muttered against the warm leather. “And you do _not_ have permission to lay with me or try to _claim_ me, you persistent boor.”

A sigh rattled out of his chest, and he shifted his weight against the tree. When he spoke, the venom was gone from his voice. “No, and I was not really planning on forcing you to. I was rather more just curious as to your reaction.”

“And?”

His right hand released her wrist and gently came to rest on the back of her head, forefinger tracing a line down the base of her right ear. 

“And, I think you need more rest.”

She was not expecting that answer. She was expecting him to call her a disappointment, a bore, and a waste of his time. Because, she was fairly certain that deep down that was what he was thinking.

“I did want to see you again. I am glad that you followed our agreement, and came when I asked you to.”

She allowed herself to settle her weight against him. He was more comfortable than the tree bark, if not just as coarse.

“I have to keep an eye on you, Zenos. You are only in this area because of me, and so I have to make sure you aren’t causing trouble.”

“Ah. The noble’s self imposed duty.”

“Something to that effect, yes.” A thought stirred in her mind. “What do you do, anyway, when you aren’t calling on me or watching the gates of Ishgard?”

“I keep out of trouble,” he said, tone sarcastic. His right hand picked at the blue fabric of her sleeve. “I mostly kill things and wait.”

“Kill?”

“The wildlife, primarily. The woods of Gridania are chock full of horrible beasts that people are willing to shell out a handful of coins to be rid of. I keep covered, take the task, kill the beast, and collect the coin. Simple enough.”

“And that doesn’t bore you?”

Zenos glanced away, head tilting toward his shoulder. “It passes the time. Keeps me from going stir crazy in my room while I wait for you to come around.”

“Your room?” She looked up at him, curious now. “Where do you stay?”

“The inn in Gridania,” Zenos said. “As long as I keep paying for my room and I don’t get blood anywhere, they leave me well enough alone.”

“It’s been awhile now, hasn’t it? How has no one figured it out?” She could not help but be concerned for the first poor ‘savage’ that accidentally discovered that Zenos yae Galvus was slumming it amongst their number.

He shrugged the shoulder she was not resting against. “Stupid, simpleminded savages.”

“ _Zenos_.”

“They don’t think I am here, so why would they think to look and see if I am?”

A fair enough point, she thought. The leaders of the Eorzean Alliance were aware of Zenos’ return to his body, but she doubted much of the smallfolk had any idea. Many in Eorzea--the ones outside Ala Mhigo at least--may not even have really been aware the man existed. If they did he was just the Garlean crown prince; a distant figure of hatred and terror.

Summer Ruby looked at his throat, at the smear of blood still oozing slightly near the line of a fading scar. She licked her lips, tasting the lingering metallic tang of iron there. A chuckle rumbled from his chest and into her flesh.

“You did not hit the jugular, my blessed beast,” Zenos said, voice soft. “Barely pierced the skin.”

“Are you disappointed?”

“Perhaps.” She looked up and could see the corners of his lips quirked in a smirk. “What you gave me was little more than what I’ve heard the courtesans call a ‘love bite’.”

“Oh, piss off. I was upset with you.” She frowned. “I still am.”

“Why, because you still want to be _normal_? You cannot content yourself to be a monster like me?”

“Yes,” she said, nearly snapping at him. A sting of frustrated tears pricked at her eyes, and she squeezed them shut in irritation. Why was it so easy for him to make her cry? “I want so badly to just be happy and normal and boring, but I just _can’t_. I can’t. That path was denied to me by forces far beyond my own understanding.”

“Then why let it bother you? Either push past it or overcome it.”

“I do not have what it takes in me to charge at my problems like a wild bull,” Summer Ruby said. “I’m not you.”

“Close enough.” He was looking down at her again now, smiling that lazy cat smile of his. She sighed.

“Do you want me to heal your neck?”

“If it would make you feel better about yourself,” Zenos said. His right hand moved to press at the middle of her back. “Go ahead.”

Summer Ruby moved her hand to cover the bite mark. His skin was a bit sticky with a mixture of his blood and her saliva. She cringed as she pressed her hand to the mess. Zenos relaxed, head falling back slightly as she summoned up a healing spell. He hummed softly, and she could feel the notes vibrate soft against her hand. Then there was something else, an answering tickle of aether against her skin as the spell took effect.

She gasped softly, a jolt coursing down her back until fading out near her tailbone. Zenos did not seem to notice--he was still humming, eyes half closed. His aether continued to tickle at hers until she finished healing him and withdrew her hand. She thought she saw a tiny flicker of red aether, as though it were trying to beckon her back.

“Better now?” she managed to croak out. The humming stopped, and his gaze returned to her.

“I will survive, yes,” he said. Zenos’ hand moved between them, taking a delicate hold of her bloodstained hand. He pressed his lips to her knuckles. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Zenos.” Summer Ruby swallowed, feeling an uncomfortable heat on her cheeks. “I probably shouldn’t have bitten you, to be honest.”

For a moment, Zenos was silent, face set in a stern focus. Then: “Summer Ruby, I don’t want--” He stared at her knuckles. “I do not desire to be your enemy any longer. I have no need for it.”

“That is a strange demand to be making,” she said. His cold expression softened, and he let out a faint laugh.

“I just wish to be your hunter. Forevermore.”

“That’s… That’s a very long time, Zenos.”

“And I should imagine your Echo and my Resonant will keep us going for a very long time.” He released her hand. “But, that is my wish.”

She lowered her hand to her side, keeping it free in case Zenos needed another reprimand. “I’ll think about it. The not being enemies part, at the least.”

He leaned in, filling the space between their faces with his presence. “Thank you.” This time, when he pressed his lips to hers, the touch was feather soft, and she let him linger. It was a chaste, beguiling thing, and she had to press a hand to his chest to ward him from continuing for too long.

“You shouldn’t do that, Zenos.”

“Why not?” He inclined his head until their foreheads touched.

“Because, a kiss is something you do when…” She hesitated. “I do not think you have an understanding of the emotions behind such things.”

“Then, teach me,” he said, his tone almost petulant in its demand.

“I can’t,” she whispered. “My heart is not free to do so.”

Zenos’ mouth set into a line, and despite the restraint of his countenance she could still tell he was disappointed. He had spent his whole life being disappointed, she thought, and no one had ever cared. Not his father, not Emet-Selch, no one at all. She would just be the next to disappoint him.

The fingers of his left hand flexed in their grip, and she realized Zenos had not quite returned her feet to the ground. She thought of his somewhat peculiar behavior this afternoon, and realized--

“Zenos yae Galvus,” she said, tone disbelieving. “Are you trying to _flirt_ with me?”

He scoffed, fingers releasing their hold on her hip. “I wouldn’t even know how to begin to try. I’ve no use for such behavior.”

She settled her weight back onto her heels. “So you were, what, just tasting your blood on my lips?”

Zenos’ blue eyes widened. “Yes!" The word was half-hoarse, nearly a shout, and accompanied by a tinge of pink along his cheekbones.

She spoke in a gentle tone: “I’ll believe you, if you want me to.”

He swallowed. “Please.”

Summer Ruby stepped away from him and used a bit of water magic to wash the blood from her hand. “I’m sorry. I don’t suppose I actually finished telling you about why I went back to the First, did I?”

“No, you didn’t.” Zenos looked at the ground. “I _suppose_ your storytelling got sidetracked.”

“I could tell you the rest? I mean, you dragged me all the way out here just to hear about what I did.”

He pushed himself away from the tree. “Yes. I did, didn’t I? Well.” He cleared his throat. “We shouldn’t waste any more time.”

She smiled up at him. “You might like the story. It’s about putting people’s souls back into their bodies.”

Zenos’ lips pulled into a thin smile. “Yes, that sounds like something that I might enjoy.”


	10. [Echo] Light as Dark as the Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is more memory/flashback than actual Echo, but we're gonna stick with the format.

Emet-Selch leaned on his elbows, watching as she ground up the collection of herbs with the mortar and pestle. Summer Ruby had not invited him in--he had done that for himself, as he tended to whenever she spent time in her room at the Pendants. She had already learned that it was pointless to try to dismiss him, or as Thancred would politely put it: _kindly fuck right off_.

Besides, she had begun to find his visits a comfort rather than a disturbance.

“What are you doing?”

“The herbs are an approximation of those on the Source,” she said, stopping to inspect the blend. “But things are similar here on the First so I think it will do nicely.”

“That didn’t answer my question at all, hero.”

“I know.” She picked up another sprig and added it to the bowl. “But, it’s just something to make myself feel better.”

“Better?” the Ascian echoed.

“Less nauseous. I can’t really do anything about the feeling that my soul is ripping apart from the inside out, but I can at least not feel like I’m going to throw up while saving the world.”

“I see. I hadn’t thought you one for being versed in the alchemical arts.”

She smiled at the man, unable to resist his half bored, childish expression of masked curiosity. “I’ve had to become versed on all sorts of things. You know: mend my own gear, make my own food, patch up my own wounds…”

“How resilient of you.”

“Something like that.” She tapped the pestle on the rim of the heavy stone bowl and looked at the tiny crystal jars she had taken from her pack.

“Where did you happen upon this recipe, then?”

“Back in Ishgard, on the Source. It’s an Elezen morning sickness cure.”

She started to pour the grey-green contents of one of the bottles into the bowl, but stopped. She could _feel_ the damn Ascian’s eyes piercing into the top of her head, and realized that she had said something she shouldn’t have.

“Shit.”

“ _Morning sickness_?” Emet-Selch echoed. She did not like the thinly veiled delight in his tone. “Whyever would you need that sort of thing, hero?”

“You have a troublesome grandson and a worrisome great-grandson, Emet-Selch. I don’t think I need to tell you where babies come from.”

His lips quirked mirthfully and he let out a low chuckle. “Aha, very true. I suppose I had thought you above that sort of thing.”

“What, that the blessing of Hydaelyn made me infertile?”

“Something of that nature, yes. We’ve already done the research on your sex drive.” He watched as she hurriedly finished her concoction and mixed it with the dregs from a bottle of wine. “So you--” He hesitated, as though re-evaluating his words. “So you left something valuable behind on the Source, then.”

“I did, yes.” 

“I’m sorry. It must be hard on you.”

She looked up from the bowl, surprised. The dark brows above his golden eyes were pinched upwards slightly, and she thought he almost looked sincere.

“It’s always been hard, yes. I’ve barely had any time to spend with him. Barely any time to spend with myself.” She scraped the tonic to the side of the bowl. “Of course, if people would stop trying to destroy Eorzea every five minutes, I’d be able to take some time off.”

“I’m afraid I can’t be of any help in that area,” the Ascian said. “Quite the opposite, in actuality.”

“I’m aware.”

He was silent as she consumed the tonic in a grimacing gulp and washed it down with a glass of wine. Then: “You know that’s just a stopgap. It won’t do anything to help.”

“It will let me eat solid food without throwing it up again. I can’t replenish what’s left of my aether if I don’t eat. It’s that simple.” She refilled the wine glass. “I am aware of what is happening to me, yes. I may just be a boring, simple creature, but I can still feel that--that _something_ isn’t right.”

“So, you can tell that much, but not the specifics, is that it?”

She nodded. “The first two Lightwardens weren’t that bad. If anything, the first one was a bit of a rush. Second one burned a bit going down. But this third one…” She frowned into the glass. “It hurts.”

“It’s ripping apart your aether and blowing holes into your soul like a gunblade at short range,” the Ascian said, voice soft. “It _should_ hurt. It’s killing you.”

Summer Ruby took a sip of wine. Her stomach felt better from the tonic, but her chest still ached and her thoughts burned in her skull. “I don’t know how to make it stop.”

Emet-Selch leaned away from the table, his expression a half soured pout as he crossed his arms. “If you didn’t want it to get this bad, you should have stopped two Lightwardens ago. You’re already damaged, and already damned to succumb to the Light inside of you. Might as well listen to your comrades and carry on. Get it over and done with.”

“I don’t--” She hesitated. She thought of the Scions, of the only people she had in the world to call friends. Where were they right now? Why had they given up on any attempt to comfort her pains, or to even see how she was feeling? “What I tell you is just between us.”

“Yes, yes, just between us and perhaps that spirit I keep sensing lurking around in the corner.” His eyes gleamed with an internal fire as he looked toward the window. She looked as well--Ardbert was not present--and then back to him. “I _thought_ so.”

She sighed and shook her head. ”Nevermind.”

“No, tell me. I shall be your confessor, hero. Purge thyself of thy sins before the knife goes into thy breast, as your Fury-loving friends would say.”

A tremor worked its way through her arms, a flicker of pain caused by the writhing of Light inside her. She set the glass down, hoping he did not notice. If he did, he was thankfully quiet about it for once.

“Sometimes I feel as though the Scions do not--” She frowned. “Twelve, I hate myself for even thinking such things, let alone saying them out loud to you.”

“Do not let that prevent you from airing your grievances, hero.”

“I have a name,” she said.

“And I know part of it, yes.” He looked at her keenly. “Summer Ruby. _Aesta Coru_ in the old Garlean, were that to apply. But there’s more to your name that you don’t tell your comrades.”

She looked away, toward the shuttered window. “I feel sometimes like the Scions do not care what happens to me, not really. They value me for what I can do for them, but most of them don’t really care about _who_ I am.” She rubbed at her eyes, embarrassed by the sting of tears that the admission caused.

“Do you care about them?”

“Some more than others.” She thought of the twins and smiled. “Alisaie and Alphinaud. The little Elezen twins? I--I can’t help but feel the need to protect them, as though they were my own.”

“That’s sweet of you,” he said. “But, the others?”

“It depends on the day, honestly.” She shrugged. “All the same, I feel like, as a group, they’re just using me.”

“Well, they _are_ just using you, hero. They always have been. But, they’ve never hidden that from you.”

“I suppose not.” She sighed. “But now it seems worse.”

“It is. They are just using you as a weapon, a blade to cut back the Light from the sky. And should that blade break, there is no guarantee they will do anything to save you. Or even if they could, should they want to try.”

Her eyes stung anew. “I don’t know what to do.”

“What you can do, hero, is to stop this nonsense. I can’t guarantee that the fourth Lightwarden won’t kill you outright, but the final most certainly will if you can’t contain the thing.” A puff of a sigh escaped the man, and he picked up the wine glass. “I had hoped it wouldn’t be like this. I wanted you to be successful.”

“Did you really?”

“Of course.” He sniffed the contents of the glass and grimaced. “If you could contain the Light yourself, it would be a lot easier to use it through you.”

“Emet-Selch!”

He smiled impishly and sipped from the glass. “I’ve nothing to gain from lying to you, hero. You would have discovered the ugly truth sooner or later. It’s just sooner than I had planned.” He licked his lips. “That’s an awful vintage.”

“Yes, well, I don’t think they have much in the way of healthy vineyards on this world.”

“True.” He gazed at her over the rim of the glass, and she thought there was something wistful to the cast of his features. “I really wanted you to turn out better than you have.”

“Why? We are enemies.”

He shrugged his broad shoulders and returned the glass to the table. “Just because we are on opposite sides does not mean we have to be enemies.”

She squinted at him. “I’m pretty sure that’s the definition of the idea of enemies, Emet-Selch.”

“Ah, well. Semantics.” He reached across the cluttered table and took the closest of her hands. She resisted the instinctual urge to yank her hand free, and allowed him to pull it closer. He turned her hand over and presented her palm to the air. Even through the silk of his glove, she could feel the chill of his skin. “You are a wondrous and strange being, Summer Ruby of the Source, and I only wish I had found you before the others did. Before Hydaelyn found you and tainted you further, before the Alliance and the Scions and everyone else had claimed you and gotten into your head with their ideals of right and wrong.”

“Why is that?”

He shook his head slowly. “You know, I saw your soul from afar, back when I was still Emperor Solus. I saw its glow, so familiar, spring to light just a few days after the Calamity.” He smiled, his expression still wistful. “So familiar a hue, how could I miss such a thing? It shined through the darkness and confusion of another Ardor. I wanted to chase after it, so very badly.”

She frowned, not sure what to make of what the Ascian was saying.

“But, I couldn’t. There was not time remaining on the ledger to go pursuing such fancies. And, imagine an eighty-something year old man chasing after some maiden fifty years his junior from the savage lands? They already thought me senile, that would have just been icing on the cake for my detractors.”

“You weren’t senile, though, were you?”

“Not in the least. I was as sharp as I was millennia ago. But the body was old. It was nearly time to rest.” He frowned, a fingertip tracing its way from her pinky finger to her thumb. “If I could have foreseen what trouble my passivity would cause my own efforts in only a scant few years, I think perhaps I would have tried harder to find you again.”

“‘Again’? What does that mean?”

For a long moment he said nothing, his gaze still fixed to her palm. Then he murmured: “Close enough to the right question,” and shifted his focus to her eyes. “You are as a strange flower, one that only blooms when it is time for the world to end. Once a calamity, when a bit of your sharded soul returns to the Source, you bloom back into life. And then, of course, you are snuffed out once more. Your first incarnation was truly a marvel--and so thirsty for battle that you became the first people’s image for their goddess of war.” He smiled at some unknown memory, but the look faltered into a morose grimace. “But even she died with three spears to the breast. I have seen you die to sickness, in childbirth, to an assassin’s blade, to drowning… And it never, ever gets easier, even though I know it will be for good in the end. So it must be, over and over, until you are once more whole.”

His words were worrisome and confusing. She tried her best to deflect the feelings. “Are you sure you aren’t senile, Emet-Selch?”

“Sometimes I think it might be a kinder option.” His brows drew together as he rested his finger against her thumb. “Tell me, hero, have you ever told the others about your past?”

She hesitated. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Certainly you do. You tell them how you and your sister, your own twin flesh and blood, don’t speak to each other. But, you don’t tell them that it isn’t because of a falling out--it’s because she thinks you’re _dead_.”

Summer Ruby stared at the Ascian, feeling as though the cold from his hand was seeping into her very veins. “What--who told you that?” She had always written off inconsistencies in her memories as a result of the Calamity, just like everyone else. 

His smirk was a deep and certain thing. “No one had to tell me, sweetheart. I could just tell.”

She pulled her hand away, shaking her head. “No, you’re wrong.”

His gaze lingered on her face. His voice dipped low and sonorous. “I’m not. Your memories of things before the Calamity aren’t yours at all. They belong to that brain, that body. But not you. The real you is a half-whole soul that Hydaelyn dumped into that body just after the last Calamity, for safekeeping and easy manipulation.”

“I don’t--” She stopped and shook her head again, more vehemently. “You’re wrong. You’re wrong, a-and I think you should leave.”

“If you really think I’m going to just leave, when I’ve only just told you what I have, then you are sorely mistaken.” He leaned in across the table, hand grabbing at hers once more. His grip was tighter this time. “That’s why I want you to stop this. I want you to leave the last two Lightwardens alone.”

She could not pull her hand free. “I can’t! I have to do this--you said it yourself. I must see this through to the end, whether I want to or not. Even if it kills me.” It was a bluff--she did not want to die, to turn into a monster, or anything like that. She wanted this to be over, so she could find her way back to the Source and just go home to Ishgard.

The Ascian grimaced and closed his eyes. He looked like he was in pain, and reflexively she opened her mouth to ask what was wrong. She had to focus and make herself stop. He was the enemy, he had always been the enemy. His well being was nothing of her concern.

“I wish you could remember me,” he said. “I wish you could miss me the way I have missed you.”

She sighed and flexed her fingers against his grip. “How can I miss you if you won’t leave me alone, Emet-Selch?”

A complaint rattled in his throat but did not escape completely as he released his hold on her hands. The Ascian looked away, scratching at the back of his neck. The motion brought her attention to the blunt cut of his hair, and something stirred in the back of her mind.

“Why do you wear your hair short now?”

He blinked and tipped his face back toward her. “What?”

“Ah--” She stopped and flustered. “I just--” She shook her head. “Nevermind. I just thought the Emperor wore his hair long in the paintings. And Varis and Zenos wear their hair long, so I guess I thought it was a royalty thing for Garlemald.”

Emet-Selch squinted at her. “When would you have ever had reason to see a painting of me?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe something in a book when I was younger.”

His mouth worked as though he were chewing an unpleasantly fatty cut of meat. “Yes, well. Paintings don’t always depict reality with complete accuracy. It was the style of the period. A man confident in his combat prowess would wear his hair long, to dare his enemy to try and grab it and use it to their advantage.”

That certainly explained Zenos, she thought. “But not you?”

The Ascian looked a touch flustered as he gestured at himself. “Me? Can you really see _me_ riding into battle and plunging a sword into some savage’s face?”

She smirked. “Mm, no. Bit too pretty and doe-eyed for that.”

“I’m a _mage_!” he cried, looking aghast. “A bloody mage, crammed into the body of a man not suited to use magic _at all_. If I’m being honest, I was incredibly fortunate that the first few years in Solus Galvus’ body worked out, or I might have had to jump ship and start over again elsewhere. Would have put a real pinch on our timetables.”

“How fortunate for you.” She gestured at him. “So, the haircut?”

He hesitated. “Oh, you know. Old mourning fashion.”

“Who were you mourning?”

The Ascian gave her a decidedly cold look. “The same people I’ve been mourning for thousands upon thousands of years.” He brushed his fingers through the white fringe that lined his face. “I used to wear it longer, yes. But I cut it off and cast it into the ashes, until such which time everyone else was whole again.”

“If they can’t be, you can’t be.”

His chin dipped in a nod. “I am still in mourning, so I still keep it short.”

“I see.” She looked to the shuttered window. “I’m sorry, Emet-Selch.”

“Whatever for?”

She wasn’t sure.

He came back for her in the night, when the lights were dimmed and as much darkness as was possible had been cast into her room. She was lying awake on the bed, arm thrown over her eyes. Even with her eyes closed, the Light still seeped in. Her body thrummed with it, painfully at times.

He wasn’t there, and then he was--a mess of bunched up skirts as he straddled her thighs, looming over her, eyes ablaze in the dim lighting. She had only slightly startled at his arrival. Her mind was so muddied with the Light that for all she knew she had blinked asleep in her exhaustion, and he had been there an age before she woke again. It was hard to say what the truth was. He was cool and heavy above her, a dark shadow that relieved some of the burning Light in her veins.

Emet-Selch’s voice was soft as he leaned in, palms denting the bed on each side of her. “Still coming apart at the seams, hero?”

“I’m not dead yet, so yes.”

“Still going to Amh Araeng in the morrow with your little friends?” He bent in closer, breath and lips fluttering against the delicate skin of her ear. She gasped, arching against his weight.

“That was the plan, yes!”

“It is a stupid plan,” he said bluntly. She swallowed back an indecent noise as his lips continued along her ear.

“Did you want something, Emet-Selch?”

“Just you.” She didn’t need him to tell her that--his positioning was pressing his desire against her abdomen. “Just one more time.”

She sighed. “I might not be fit to fuck later, hmm?”

“Indeed. I’m not one for pleasuring myself with monsters.” The Ascian shifted his weight to sit up. “Shall we, then?”

“I’m tired.”

“I can be _efficient_ ,” he said, rolling his eyes. He lifted a gloved hand. “I’ll even do the Thing. You like the Thing, I know you do, hero.”

She could not help but smile at his offering. “Alright, _fine._ ”

The Ascian smirked down at her as he snapped his fingers. It was a motion that could have unmade the heavens, but in this case it simply caused all of their clothing to disappear from their persons and reappear in two neat piles on a nearby bench.

She laughed. He laughed, and kissed her chin.

Emet-Selch did not waste time with any further preamble. His skin was a cool and pleasant balm against the pricking of Light burning within her own flesh. She sighed softly with the pleasure of it all as he entered her, fingers tight on her thighs and face pressed into her hair. She could hear his voice, ringing soft with platitudes and pleas, but could not focus on his words. This was an act for physical pleasure, nothing more, and she did her best to hone in on that, despite the aching in her body.

The Ascian had been much rougher with her the first time they had done this. But now he was almost gentle, as though wary of doing damage to her already fractured being with his own. There was something else, something subtle--a feathering touch of his dark aether, soothing along her own and settling into the burnt out pockets. It was naught more than throwing water onto an inferno. The burning blaze would not be quenched, but it did provide some small comfort. Why this kindness, she wondered. Why this mercy to his enemy?

“Stop thinking so much,” Emet-Selch murmured into her hair, voice dropping out of its larking foreign tongue. “Just let me take care of you.”

She did not know what he meant, but tried to stop thinking, if only for a few minutes. He felt good, in her and on her, and for a little while that was enough.

Afterwards, they lay in the dimmed light of the night. He held her, hugging her head against his chest. She could feel the steady, mortal-seeming beat of his heart in his breast. It was soothing, as though it spoke the same strange language the man had before. His fingers carded slowly through her hair.

She became aware of him beginning to speak again when his jaw shifted and rubbed gently against her ear.

“So, you have a child, then?”

“I do, yes. A son. He’s just a baby.”

“Ah.” Quiet, and then, in a tone laced with some unknown loss and longing: “I hope you get to see him again someday.”

“So do I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Aesta Coru_ : _Aesta_ , from the Latin "aestas", meaning "Summer". And _Coru_ , from "corundum", a type of gemstone that comes in many colors, the red variety best being known as a ruby.


	11. The Mother's Ire

[[Amaurot was burning. She knew, on a painfully intimate level, that the last hours were upon them. It was not something that needed to be said, no, it was something they could all feel. But for one such as she, who had undergone the extra rigors of training, who had taken up a mantle and sworn to help protect the people, the Final Days were a cause of physical pain.

Though the battle between Zodiark and Hydaelyn was all but invisible to the commonfolk, one did not need to be a gifted seer to know that something was going wrong. 

_This would be so much easier if you had just stayed_.

No, no, she had tired of their methods. She wanted no further harm to come, not to them, not to him. She had fled into the encroaching dark.

_Stayed and been Tempered._

Her limbs ached, and her stomach churned against the corrupted flow of the aether that surrounded her.

 _Traitor. Traitor. Matrisiram, you worthless Traitor_.

“Percy!”

She stumbled at the sound of a familiar voice calling out to her. Hythlo. Her heart ached, longed to turn back and run to him, let him hold her and promise things would be fine, just fine. But he was no longer a safe haven. If he found her, then Emet-Selch would find her through him.

_We will come for you._

“Percy, please! _Please_ , just talk to him!”

She hurried down the crumbling sidewalk. Above the buildings creaked and groaned, and the sky flickered with what looked like but was not streaks of levin.

 _Please_.

“Help me!” she cried out, voice hoarse from the smoke.

She stumbled in the dark. When she got back to her feet, she was surprised to see a young man, barely old enough to be out of school, making his way down the shattered street. He had soot smudged blond hair, half strewn into his maskless face and big blue eyes. The man did not look afraid, just lost. She thought perhaps she had seen him before, but could not be sure. 

“What are you doing out without your mask? You shouldn’t be out here; it isn’t safe!” She called, holding out her hand, beckoning him to her side. He just stared at her.

Somewhere in the distance a bell rang, striking out a hopeless shriek into the madness around them. She was running out of time. She did not have time to help the man--he was already doomed.

She turned, and ran into the inferno.The roar of the flames consumed the man’s voice as he called after her.]]

Sometimes, on the colder of the endless cold days, Summer Ruby wondered what Ishgard had been like before the Calamity. The locals all said that it had once been lovely and verdant, until the Calamity occurred and suddenly everything was covered in fulms of snow and ice. Some seven or so years on, she found it hard to imagine the country as anything but frozen over. Especially on a morning like this one, where an overnight snowstorm had buried everything in a fresh fulm of heavy, wet snow. It was still snowing with the dawn, and Summer Ruby was quietly glad for having the luxury of being able to stay inside. The cold did not bother her, no, but the sickly wetness of everything always lowered her spirits.

The Lord Commander, sadly, did not have such luxuries afforded to him by his position. She helped him bundle up before sending him off into the morning flurry with a kiss and a wish for him to have a good day. Summer Ruby resigned herself to spending the day alone, but for the company of her child and a book. She sat in the study, facing the crackling fireplace, book open on her knees.

It did not take long for her mind to wander from the tome before her. Where was Zenos, she wondered, and what was he doing? She had not heard from the man in more than a week. There had been no wild news of the Garlean crown prince being captured or killed, and so she was left to assume that he was just lurking about Gridania and the Black Shroud. Was it raining there? Did it ever snow there? She had no idea. Again she wondered what he was up to, and why he had not called on her again.

 _And why do I even care? Why would I even want to see him?_ she wondered. There was no excuse for that, really. The less she saw of Zenos yae Galvus, the safer she was overall. If he never called on her again and kept out of trouble, then he would still be upholding their agreement. _What is wrong with you, woman? Have you gone mad?_

Perhaps she had. Just idly considering the man stirred something in her breast. It was not love, not what she felt for Aymeric. It was something else, like some elder beast of the forest that grew dangerous the longer it was ignored. Something dangerous and dark that should have been left sleeping. Now it was awake and flexing its claws into her thoughts.

Still, she knew not what this beast was, and could only wonder.

 _Do not let that man captivate you, Summer Ruby. Do not let him under your skin._ She thought of the strange aetheric pulse she had felt when healing Zenos. What had caused that? Had he felt anything, or was it just peculiar feedback on her side? She shifted her legs, knees pressing together uncomfortably. It was probably just her imagination. _But why imagine something like that_ …

A sharp rapping on the front doors echoed down the main hall and drew Summer Ruby out of her darkening thoughts. She set aside the unread book and got to her feet, reaching the hallway as the steward came looking for her, missive in hand.

“The courier came from Mor Dhona,” the steward said. “Delayed by the snows, as usual.”

“Thank you. Did you tip the runner?”

The steward smiled. “Of course, Lord Aymeric would be aghast to hear otherwise.”

“Good.” Summer Ruby broke the seal on the parchment and studied the hasty penmanship.

_Summer - By the Twelve would it honestly kill you to carry your linkpearl. Alphinaud and I will be visiting on the morrow, sometime in the morning, weather permitting. Apologies for the late notice, he is being insistent. -- Alisaie_

“To the point,” she murmured. A glance at the date scribbled in the upper corner showed that the letter had been written only yesterday. “Shit.”

She scrambled down the hall, calling for the houseman. The young Elezen appeared from the storeroom, looking vaguely irritated at having the weekly inventory interrupted.

“Yes, my lady?”

She shoved the refolded letter into the girl’s hands. “I need you to run this to the Congregation, right now. It needs to be delivered directly to thy Lord’s hands, immediately. This is _urgent_ , alright?” She retrieved a coin from the pocket of her housecoat and pressed it into the girl’s palm on top of the letter. “Understand?”

The houseman’s eyes widened, and she nodded vigorously. “Yes, my Lady!”

Summer Ruby heaved a sigh as the girl scampered off. She had known that it would only be a matter of time before the Scions came calling for her again. She was thankful for the scant weeks she did get, but wished there had been more.

_You could tell them that you mean to retire. Stop being the Warrior of Light. Just be Summer Ruby._

No, she could not tell them that. For whatever suffering the Scions had caused her, they meant well--for the star’s concerns, if not her own personal ones. 

_How is that any different from Emet-Selch?_

She shook her head, rubbing at her temple. Now was not the time to worry or think of such things. Besides, simply _saying_ she no longer wanted to be the Warrior of Light would not be enough to undo her bevvy of blessings and other burdens. She did not have the power of the gods or the Ascians--she could not simply say something and make it so. This was not some simple kind of employment she could walk away from--what kind of job asked for someone to risk their life on the daily, but paid only in praise and increased expectations? Even the Syndicate wasn’t _that_ cruel. 

Her mind turned this discontent over and over as she dressed and fixed her hair. She knew it was just Alphinaud and Alisaie visiting, and they had seen her looking her absolute worst, but she still wanted to make herself presentable. _In this house I am not the Warrior of Light. I am the Viscountess de Borel_. She clenched her teeth as the comb hit a snag. She wondered: would the twins be able to make that distinction? She could. She knew them as people, their likes and dislikes, and not just members of the Scions.

After confirming that Merle was in the midst of his mid-morning nap, Summer Ruby made her way to the kitchen. She did not know when the twins would arrive, before or after lunch, so she made sure that Leveilleur-friendly snacks were prepared, and their preferred varieties of tea set aside. Alphinaud would want tea, definitely, he was always cold when he came to Ishgard. Alisaie would be indifferent, and most likely was using their trip as an excuse to see the baby.

 _Perhaps she sees me as more than just the Warrior of Light_. But, Alphinaud? That was harder to determine. He was always so business-minded…

She did not have to wait terribly long for the twins to arrive. The steward let them in, as instructed. Alphinaud was fussing and shaking a fresh dusting of snow from his pale hair as she made her way down the hall.

“Honestly, perhaps we can convince her to stay in Mor Dhona, or Gridania or _someplace_ warmer--”

“I don’t think it’s that easy, Alphinaud,” Alisaie said.

“I don’t see why--”

“Gracious, I don’t even get a greeting today before you start complaining,” Summer Ruby said as she approached the pair. She smiled at the little startled noise that Alphinaud made as he jumped to attention. 

“Summer!” Alphinaud smiled brightly and stepped around the steward. “I must say, you picked a strange part of the city to stay in. Had I known you were close to the airship landing I would have seen about getting Cid to bring us here instead of traveling on foot.”

“He means from the aetheryte,” said Alisaie. “Don’t let him make you think we footed it here from Mor Dhona in the middle of a blizzard.”

She stooped and hugged the twins in turn. “I’m glad you made it here safely, though I must admit your message was a surprise. The courier was delayed by yesterday’s storm.”

“You do still have your linkpearl, don’t you?” Alisaie said. “It’s a bit difficult getting into communication with you without it. I’m sure we could acquire a new one for you if--”

“Not necessary,” Summer Ruby said. “Now, I’m sure you need to warm up. I’ve some tea prepared, so you’re welcome to some while we discuss--” A soft cry resounded from down the hall, and she nearly bit her own tongue at the sound. “Excuse me.” She caught the excited way that Alisaie’s face face lit up at the sound.

The twins doggedly followed her down the hall, Alisaie ahead of Alphinaud.

Merle had woken from his nap, ready for lunch. She leaned over the crib, smoothing the baby’s black curls.

“Shh, sweetheart, it’s not quite time for lunch yet.”

Alphinaud leaned around her right elbow and looked into the crib. “Summer, who are--” He stopped short, mouth hanging half open as he looked down at little Merle.

“Oh, no fair!” protested Alisaie.

Her twin stared at the baby. To his credit, Merle was quiet as he stared back up at the young Elezen, contented by his mother’s gentle touch in his hair.

“That’s a baby,” he whispered.

“Yes,” she said. “That’s my baby. His name is Merle.”

“Yours?” Alphinaud’s expression pinched as he scrutinized the infant. “But, he’s not that old, Summer, you would have had to have had him--” He jolted and backpedaled several steps, nearly bumping into his sister. “ _Twelve_.”

“Not long before we were called to help in Ala Mhigo, yes.” She turned to look at him.

Alphinaud’s dark eyes were glossy with tears now. He was gritting his teeth. “How could you--” He ducked his face and wiped his fingers across his eyes before looking up at her again. His voice was tight to the point of breaking when he spoke. “How could you go off to war, when you had a _baby_ at home? You could have told _us_ , we could’ve--”

She held up a hand to stay the flood of words and possibilities that she knew would escape the little Elezen’s lips if given the chance. “It was a choice I had to make. That we had to make.”

“Imagine if Zenos yae Galvus had gotten word of this somehow,” Alisaie said to her brother.

Alphinaud looked at her, brows drawing together. “Ishgard would have had another war on its hands.” His mind, ever desperate for logic, must have been clicking through his older memories, because then he said: “I suppose that does explain your condition at the beginning of our involvement with the Resistance movement. Why you were so easily batted aside by Lord Zenos when the empire attacked Rhalgr’s Reach.”

“You don’t have to bring that up,” Summer Ruby said with a sigh. 

“My apologies. It was a costly loss.” He clamped his hand over his mouth and grimaced when his sister elbowed him sharply in the side. “I’m sorry!”

“But, no, I was not really in fighting form back then.” She shook her head. “I nearly died in childbirth. An unfortunately common occurrence in our world. But, we decided, not happily, that it was for the best of the greater good. So I went.”

“‘We’?” Alphinaud echoed. He looked at the bassinet and pointed at it, then looked back to her, brows drawn again in confusion. “‘We’ who?”

“My husband and I,” she said plainly.

“Your--” Alphinaud stopped and looked flummoxed.

Alisaie muttered. “You are too old for me to have to explain where babies come from.”

The sound of boots hurrying down the hall met their ears, and Aymeric appeared in short order. He looked put together and proper, but Summer Ruby knew the man well enough now to tell that he had likely nearly bolted from his office when she had passed on Alisaie’s letter of arrival. Alphinaud gave Aymeric a puzzled look, and then looked to Summer Ruby, and then to his sister.

“You said we were visiting Summer Ruby at home. So, just whose home _are_ we visiting, dear sister?”

“Please, excuse my lateness,” Aymeric said. He dipped in a polite half bow. “Let me welcome you to the ancient home of the Borel family.” He rose, something sheepish having crept into his polite smile. “However belatedly.”

Alphinaud gawped at the Lord Commander for a long moment before pointing at him. “When did _that_ happen?”

“After the Dragonsong War ended,” Summer Ruby said.

“You didn’t tell us,” he said, voice dropping down to a dismayed whisper.

“I apologize, Alphinaud,” she said. He flapped a hand at his sister.

“But you told _her!_ ”

“Not until we were on the First,” Alisaie said. “And that was just womanly necessity.” 

He made no attempt to hide his eye roll at his sister. “By the Twelve, I don’t even know what to think of all of this.”

The baby fussed again, still impatient for lunch. Aymeric held up a hand and went over to the bassinet, carefully scooping up the child and voicing soft murmurs of reassurance. 

Alisaie let out a barely restrained noise of excitement as he returned. “Oh, can I see him? I’ve been wanting to see him now for ages.”

Summer Ruby watched, a gentle smile on her lips, as Aymeric stooped to let the twins see their child. Safely ensconced in his father’s hands, the infant blinked his big dark blue eyes and gazed up at the newcomers to his tiny world.

“Might I introduce you to Merle de Borel,” Aymeric said, smiling at the infant with the same warmth he had shown the Warrior of Light upon their first meeting. “My son.”

“Pleasure to meet you, little Merle,” Alisaie cooed.

“He’s _tiny_ ,” observed Alphinaud. “Were we ever that tiny?”

“You’re still that tiny,” she said to him. “He’s absolutely perfect. He looks just like a miniature version of you, Lord Commander.”

Aymeric chuckled. “Yes, although I daresay he’s made of stronger stuff than I, thanks to his mother.”

“So he’s half-Roegadyn, then?” Alphinaud said.

“No, he’s half chocobo,” Summer Ruby said. “What would you expect him to be, Alphinaud?”

“Well, I mean--” He made an embarrassed noise and gestured at the space over his head.

“Merle was born before we were torn to the First,” she said.

“Ah. Yes, of course.” 

The baby, apparently sufficiently disappointed by the lack of lunch and unimpressed by the twins, let out a big yawn and squeezed his eyes shut.

Aymeric’s tone was apologetic: “He sleeps a lot, so he has spent a lot of time with his Nanny.”

“His Nanny?”

“You might have met him. Lord Mondblum?”

Alphinaud thought, and then nodded. “The tailor, yes? I think I recall Tataru speaking with him. Coat linings or the like.”

“That’s the man, yes.”

“So, who else knows about all of this?” the younger Elezen asked.

“Those who need to have known. Imagine if more knew that the Warrior of Light had a child. And, well, _me_.”

“The latter is less of a surprise to me, Lord Commander,” Alphinaud said after another moment of consideration. “You didn’t really do that good of a job hiding the fact that you were transfixed on her during most of our meetings.”

Summer Ruby burst out laughing. “And here you thought you were being more discreet, dear.”

Color rose to Aymeric’s cheeks. “Yes, well, she is a very compelling person.”

While Alisaie cooed over the baby, Alphinaud stepped aside to speak to Summer Ruby.

“Are you well? We’ve missed you, you know. Worried about you--you just cut and ran as soon as anyone stopped asking for you, and all Alisaie would tell me was that you had something to tend to in Ishgard.”

“Well, I did have something important to see to, yes.” The Warrior of Light sighed softly and rubbed her fingers over her left eye. “I am as well as I can be.”

“You look good,” he said. Then his cheeks flushed scarlet and he broke into a flustered stammer. “I mean, healthy! You’ve always looked good. Pretty, I mean.” He let out an embarrassed cough. “I mean I’m glad you’re doing well!”

She chuckled. “My physical wounds have mended, yes.”

Absently, to the floor, he said: “I’ve always wished I was born a few years earlier, when I’m around you.” The red on his cheeks intensified and traced out to his ears.

Summer Ruby covered her mouth with her hand, trying not to laugh outright at his expense. “Even were you a few years older, you’d still have been far too young for me, Alphinaud.”

“N-no, I didn’t mean like that. You know that, Summer.” He choked out a laugh. “I mean, in all of these political dealings, matters of such grave importance, it would have been so much easier were I older, you know? Taller, at the least.”

“I think you still did quite well,” she said. “And where you didn’t, you learned from your mistakes.”

He batted the end of his braid back over his shoulder, looking mollified by her words. “Thank you. I am trying.”

“Keep trying, and I’m quite certain you’ll grow up into a good man, okay?” She patted his arm, and he nodded. The color retreated from his ears and cheeks.

“Thank you, Summer Ruby. You’re so very kind.” He laughed. 

Alisaie fluttered over, looking extremely excited. “Alphinaud! Alphinaud! The Lord Commander said that we can be the baby’s godsiblings!”

“His what?”

Summer Ruby looked over at her husband. Aymeric lifted a hand in a gesture of surrender and shrugged his armored shoulders.

“It was her suggestion. Well, insistence.”

She looked at the twins. “I can’t say I object, but you must understand that we still wish to keep this a private issue.”

“It will be impossible to keep secret forever,” Alphinaud said. “Others will find out.” He frowned, curling his forefinger against his chin thoughtfully. “He will always be in danger of someone trying to hurt him to hurt the Warrior of Light. Or the leader of Ishgard.”

Aymeric’s posture stiffened visibly. “We are aware, yes. And we will see to it that he is raised safely, and able to help keep himself safe when he is older.”

“It just seems like a glaring weak spot in your personal armor.”

He frowned at the younger man. “You need not point out the obvious, Master Leveilleur. Summer Ruby and I discussed this in full, long before Merle was born.”

“My apologies. I’m just concerned.”

“Your concern is appreciated,” Aymeric said, tone still stiff. “And, honestly, I’m sure we will need all the assistance we can get as time goes by.”

Summer Ruby spoke up: “Merle was a surprise. We did not make the game more complicated on purpose.”

“Ah, yes, a surprise.” Alphinaud crossed his arms and tipped his head to the side. “That seems to be something of a plague here in Ishgard.” He yelped as his sister swatted him in the back of the head. “Ali!”

“I am quite sorry on behalf of my brother, Ser Aymeric,” Alisaie said. “My brother is clever and means well, but he’s also an _idiot_.”

Alphinaud grimaced as he rubbed at the back of his head. “Such a brute.”

Summer Ruby watched Aymeric’s posture slip a bit as he chuckled. “Between his mother and I, Merle should at least be able to handle a sword, bow, and a bit of magic. But, that will be in due time. For now, we just want him to have a bit of peace.”

Alphinaud smiled. “Ah, your heart’s desire for the nation applied at its smallest, most important piece.”

“Indeed.”

She and the twins went to the dining hall, where food and tea had been set out. Aymeric lingered out in the hallway with the baby and a freshly prepared bottle. They sat in companionable quiet, eating and drinking. Alisaie occasionally bubbled up with some cheerful banter about the baby before drifting back into quiet. A thoughtful expression dwelled upon Alphinaud’s young features.

Summer Ruby sat and tried to keep her mind from drifting away from her current situation. She was happy to see the twins, of course, she cared about them and was glad to see that they were both recuperating well after their return home from the First. But, she knew Alphinaud well enough to know that he could have not come to Ishgard on some wayward, vaguely outlined trip by his sister. There had to be another reason for their visit.

She stared into her tea cup and thought _wouldn’t it be hilarious if Zenos called on me right now_. No, she knew damned well it would not be _hilarious_ , it would be an awkward mess all around. Aymeric was not aware of her arrangement with the prince, and in front of two Scions was not the right time or place for that exchange of information to happen. Neither was she eager for the twins to find out that, over the last month, she had repeatedly been in contact with the mad prince. They would be aghast, and even more so to learn that she had half come to look forward to dealing with the man, if only because it got her out of the house and into comfortable territory.

Finally, Summer Ruby had her fill of quiet. She cleared her throat, bringing the twins out of their respective daydreams.

“Now.” She drained the last of her tea. “Surely you did not travel all the way to Ishgard just to see how I was doing.”

Alphinaud looked bashful as he glanced over at his sister. “Of course we might have.”

“You hate coming to Ishgard. I think we could wrap you in a giant bear pelt and you’d still complain of the cold. So, why are you here?”

“Alisaie really wanted to see the baby, though I didn’t know that was her reason for wanting to come here.” Alphinaud carefully set his teacup back on its saucer. “It’s Thancred and Urianger--Thancred in particular. Both of their conditions continue to deteriorate. It’s starting to be obvious with Thancred.”

“And, what of Y'shtola?”

“She is still in decline as well, though Krile says her situation is not as close to becoming urgent as Thancred’s.” He cleared his throat. “I am, of course, loath to have to send you as the one to tell Thancred that it is time for him to say his good-byes to Ryne, but… Surely he knew he would have to part from her someday, right?”

 _Ah, yes, make me the bearer of bad news._ “I’m sure he was aware of the fact. And, Urianger?”

“His condition fares only a little better,” said Alisaie, not hiding her frown. “And, I believe we’ll need him to get Thancred back.”

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t have quite as strong a bond with them as you do with us,” said Alphinaud.

“That is,” Alisaie cut in, “to say that I should be able to help call Urianger back. But with his attachment to Ryne as it is, Thancred will need a greater encouragement for his soul to return to the Source.” The girl leaned in and gave her a pointed look. “And that would be Urianger.”

Summer Ruby stared at her for a moment. Then she understood the girl’s meaning. “ _Oh_. When did that happen?”

She shrugged. “Before I arrived on the First. I mean, you don’t really think Thancred would have risked repeated trips into Il Mheg, and put himself and Minfilia into danger with the faeries if there hadn’t been a _reason_ , now do you?”

“I suppose not. I just hadn’t had reason to consider it--they’re very subtle.”

Alphinaud pinched his nose. “I’m not completely obtuse, I’ll have you know. I know what you’re talking about.” He grunted as his sister swatted his arm.

“All the same, even if Y’shtola is not ready to return, those two will have to be a package deal.”

“I see.” Summer Ruby sighed and rubbed absently at her left temple. “Does it have to be today?”

Alisaie hesitated before shaking her head. “No, I think as long as it’s in the next week or so, they should be fine.”

“Good.” She had other business that needed shoring up before she went to the First again.

“Summer, might I ask you something?” Alphinaud piped in. “Why… why are you so reluctant to go back to the First now? I mean, I understand the baby and all of that, but you can rather easily come and go, compared to everyone else. You worked so hard to save the First. Why-” He fell silent as she placed a hand on his shoulder. She stared down at him, her thoughts from earlier prickling angrily again in her mind.

“You’re young, Alphinaud. And I know you have been through a lot in the last few years. And, I am not belittling your own struggles.” She squeezed his shoulder until he flinched. “But I have been stricken and suffered in these recent times. You and the other Scions stood by and watched me and felt _pity_ for me as I suffered for the sake of doing what you asked of me, for the sake of saving the First. You all stood there and felt sad and helpless and unable to do anything to save me, to rectify the results of the course you put me on. And no one really cared how I really felt! I was in agony and _dying_ and how dare I try to go off alone!” She could barely keep a desperate snarl from her voice. “Even the damned Ascian tried to help me before it was too late!”

“Summer, we--” 

She ignored Alisaie’s interjection. “And it’s been like this for some two years! Every time there is a problem too big for the guard, it falls to me. Over and over, and I always have to say _yes_ , even when I’d rather not! I can’t just _say_ no when I want to, because I’m the godsdamned Warrior of Light and I was chosen to suffer!” Her eyes stung. “And I am tired of suffering all the time for others, so you will have to forgive me for not wanting to spend more time on the First than I absolutely damned have to!”

Summer Ruby released her grip on Alphinaud’s shoulder and stepped away, her heart pounding. The twins had fixed her with wide eyed, dumbfounded expressions.

“Summer, we never mean--”

She clenched her teeth. “You never mean any harm.” She pushed past Alphinaud. “Excuse me.”

Aymeric stood out in the hall, brows drawn together, but she hurried past him as well. She rushed outside, face hot and chest feeling too confining for her lungs.

Summer Ruby did not stop until she’d fled past the Athenaeum and the Dzemael Manor. There was a fountain at the top of the steps, and here she stopped and sat on the cold wooden bench that rimmed the base of the water feature. She sat, mindless of the several fresh ilms of snow on the wood, and dropped her face into her hands.

After a few minutes, she heard a voice call gently from her right.

“Are you alright, sister?”

She sniffed and rubbed the unshed moisture from her eyes before correcting her posture. The Lord of House Fortemps was standing a polite distance away, looking as concerned as propriety would permit him.

“Oh. Artie. I’m fine.” She remembered where she was and cleared her throat. “I mean, thank you for your concern, Lord Artoirel. I just needed some fresh air.”

“I’m sure you’re quite fine, out in the cold wearing your housegown and slippers, and the Lord Speaker making his way here.”

“I just--” She swallowed, having no desire to rant at the man. “It isn’t easy, being a hero.”

Artoirel smiled sadly. “Yes, I am aware. ‘Tis a costly business.” He lowered his voice. “Thy husband approaches.”

She pinched at her nose for a moment. “I know. Thank you.”

“Ah, Lord Artoirel, I see you have found my--” Aymeric faltered as he glanced around. “The Warrior of Light.”

“Indeed. I was chastising her for dressing so unfit for the weather.”

Aymeric chuckled softly and held out a heavy dark blue coat. “Well, I know you aren’t cold, my friend, but please humor me.” He met Summer Ruby’s gaze steadily, questions in his eyes, but also the kindness to not pursue them in a public venue. She got to her feet and stooped enough to let him drape the coat over her shoulders.

“Thank you, my lord,” she said softly. “Lord Artoirel, Alphinaud and his sister are here. Perhaps I shall send them over to the manor once they are done with their visit.”

Artoirel looked between husband and wife, and then gave a reserved smile and nod. “Yes, I’ll have to let Father know they’ll be visiting. He’ll be glad for it.” He lowered his voice. “And bring Merle by sometime, alright? He keeps asking.”

She smiled. “He knows where we live.”

“Indeed.” Artoirel gave a bow. “Lord Speaker, I will see you in the Halls later.”

“Of course.”

They waited until Artoirel had started back off in the direction of the Fortemps manor. Then Aymeric gently touched Summer Ruby’s elbow. She knew he was turning her back in the direction of home. Her ears twitched as fresh snowflakes landed on them.

“We should get back inside,” said Aymeric, tone soft and unthreatening. “The twins are still in the dining hall having some more refreshments.”

“Thank you, Aymeric.” She drew the coat in more tightly around her shoulders. “I’m sorry I made a scene.”

“You’ve every right to, in your own home.” His fingers squeezed briefly at her elbow. “Though, I wish now that you felt more comfortable opening up to me about your feelings.” Aymeric opened the heavy red front doors and held them open.

“You already carry so much on your shoulders, Aymeric,” she said as she entered the manor. “I don’t need to burden you with even more.” She watched him close and lock the doors behind them. “I can help you no more with your burdens than you can aid me with mine.”

“Yes, but--” Aymeric paused and glanced toward the dining room. “But I still wish to hear your grievances. Just as you so sweetly sit at the dinner table and listen to me complain about my duties.” He flashed a sheepish look. “Though, I will be the first to admit that saving the world and mediating plans for construction in the Brume are two very different things.”

“What if I’m tired of being the savior of Eorzea, time and again? What if I just want to stop?”

Aymeric’s gaze was warm and kind, and made her feel nostalgic for a time many months ago when they had first met. “Do you remember what I said, after the battle with the Garleans? Before you were taken to the First? Even the Warrior of Light needs and deserves rest.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “And I shall back you when you need your rest, my love. I promise.”

“Aymeric…” She took his hand between her own. “I want you to know, the happiest I’ve been in these last two years was when I was here in Ishgard for those months, waiting for Merle.”

He smiled up at her. “I enjoyed that time as well, even though I did have to keep sneaking into Ser Orage’s home like a naughty schoolboy.” He chuckled. “I’m honestly surprised that the gossips never caught on.”

“The gossips prefer you to be single and available, or at least secretly shacking up with one of the maidens from the High Houses.” Summer Ruby shrugged off her coat and hung it by the door. “They likely think anything to do with me is still distasteful.”

“Their ignorance is my gain,” Aymeric muttered. He rested his fingers gently on her left shoulder. “Come, smooth things over with your friends and send them over to House Fortemps. I told Lucia I wouldn’t be back until after the lunch hours, so I do have some time to spend with you.”


	12. The Beast With Two Backs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you can handle a little bit of blood at the beginning, you will be rewarded with smut. Promise!

“ _Urgent. I am in need of thy assistance. Gridania, door will be open. Do not tarry._ ”

Summer Ruby stuffed the brief missive into her traveling pack before continuing to access the contents of the bag. It had not been ten minutes since she had received the message from the slightly terrified looking courier. She did not know what Zenos wanted her for this time. Like as much he was just bored again and looking to harass her. Still, she had to honor their agreement lest he take his boredom out on someone else. Whatever the cause, the prince was fortunate that she had nothing else on her schedule for the foreseeable future.

_Why the rush, Summer Ruby? Why hasten to that madman’s side? Ah, yes, you’ve been waiting for him to call on you…_

She stuffed her medicinal kit back into the pack after replacing a few bottles, and addressed the steward who was watching her from the doorway. “Tell Aymeric that I had to go to Gridania and assist a friend with a bit of trouble. I’ll be back tonight. Or perhaps in the morrow if things take overlong. I don’t know, as of yet.”

“Of course, my lady,” the steward said. He offered a polite smile. “Do have a good time on your little adventure.”

She closed the pack and picked up her rapier. “Don’t worry. I won’t cause any trouble.”

The aetheryte plaza in Gridania was busy with the usual mid-afternoon bustle of adventurers and other travelers. Summer Ruby did a quick check of the hood on her traveling cloak--though it was not raining for once in the forest town, she did not want to draw any unnecessary attention to herself. Twelve forbid she had to make Zenos wait for her just because someone noticed the Warrior of Light mucking about without a menial task to which to tend.

She slipped past the Roost’s innkeeper while he was busy discussing something with an adventurer, and made her way down the line of nearly identical doors until she found the one she knew Zenos was occupying. Summer Ruby knocked lightly before opening the door--it was unlocked, as he had promised.

“Alright, I’m here. What did you--” The scent of blood met her nose, and she stopped.

The rumble of Zenos’ voice emerged from the shadows: “Ah, the Warrior of Light is indeed as expedient as I had hoped. Do lock the door for me.”

Summer Ruby hurriedly entered the room and shoved the heavy wooden door shut. After moving the lock into place, she turned to face the room. An apprehensive glance around showed a katana in its scabbard, leaning in the corner next to the bed. Easily within the reach of the figure in the bed, but nothing else of concern. She lit the lamp next to the door and looked to the man who had called for her. Zenos was in bed, minus any shirt. His left arm was bound in a bloodied mess of bandages and propped on his dark cloak to prevent the mess from spreading to the bedsheets. His eyes were closed, dark lashes resting against skin that seemed to be a bit paler than normal.

"You’re hurt?” For all she knew of the man, the blood could have belonged to someone else and she was walking into a trap.

“Aye,” the prince said, heaving a tremendous sigh. “That is why I summoned a healer. One that I can trust, and not one of the local forest savages.”

She let out an uneasy breath and set her pack down by the door. After removing her cloak and hanging it on the back of the door she said: “Well. I came all this way. I suppose I can look at you.” 

Summer Ruby rubbed the stiffness from her ears as she moved nearer to the bed and lit another lamp. Zenos flinched as the light hit his eyelids, but after a low grumbling grunt he opened his eyes. His eyes surveyed the room--from one lamp, to the next, and then to the door--before returning his gaze to her. He stared up at her, a triumphant gleam in his pale blue eyes.

“You wore red for me.”

She sighed and shook her head. “I’m a _red_ mage, you daft monster. The color is appropriate for my work.”

“Say what you like.” His eyes squinted like a content cat’s as he smiled. “I knew you looked better in red.” He stretched his good arm over his head and smirked. “You would have looked delightful in imperial finery.”

“Oh, shut up.” She made a show of removing her long red coat, then folded it neatly and set it down on the bench by the door. This was followed by her boots, which were deposited under the bench. “Let’s get this done, then. I’m no practiced healer, so I can’t make you any promises.”

His eyes did not leave her as she stooped over the bed. “I don’t need promises. Just results.”

“A hunting accident, I assume?” Summer Ruby tried not to make a face while removing the soiled bandages from his left arm. He nodded incrementally. “What was it you were hunting?”

“A boar… cat… creature. I do not recall the name on the hunt notice. It was just your usual nightmare of the deep woods.” He growled as she poked at a shredded patch of skin. “Don’t do that.”

Her mind considered how he might have gained his wounds. The beast must have grabbed at the arm, near the elbow, but its teeth could not gain purchase on the thick muscle, leaving his skin torn as the animal turned its head. The small amount of bruising near the elbow appeared to support this theory. “I would have thought a man with the powers of the Ascians would have been able to avoid getting himself hurt by a simple monster.”

“I was just careless.”

“Right.” She turned his arm, continuing to judge the extent of his injuries. “You just wanted to feel the pain.”

“There’s nothing wrong with a dose of blood sport.”

“Yes, I know. You and your thrill.” She frowned as she focused her aether into a careful application of a water spell to wash off his wounds. “Fortunately this looks mostly superficial. But, without the Empire’s medicines or the poultices of the _savages_ , you’d probably risk an infection.”

“I am aware. I sent for you, remember?”

“Of course I do.” She adjusted the cloak underneath his arm. “I must say, you did quite the good job of binding your wounds. Probably better than I could have, under similar circumstances.”

“It was part of my education,” said Zenos. “Basic field survival techniques. The handling of injuries for a people that could not rely on a healer’s magic.”

“Ah. Well.” Summer Ruby went to her bag and retrieved a potion bottle. She doused her palms with the bottle’s contents. “Given the state of your injuries, I’m inclined to think you got yourself scraped up just to have an excuse to call on me. Like a little boy trying to get attention from his favorite nurse.”

Zenos grunted and turned his face away. “Just heal me.”

“As thy lordship wishes,” she said, her tone glib. She held her hands close to the surface of his sundered skin, focusing her aether once more. The healing magic was easier to cast than she remembered it being in the past--possibly a side effect of becoming a Viera. And yet, the aether in her patient’s body was less than entirely receptive to her healing. She could feel it fighting her, resisting her attempts to heal him. It was very similar to the strange tickle she had felt when she healed Zenos’ neck more than a week before, except much stronger. It did, however, cause the same responsive jolt through her system.

The feedback sent a pulse of aetheric energy through her hands and down through her torso. She inhaled sharply, hoping that Zenos did not notice the disruption. If he did, he gave no indication of it, eyes closed and chin inclined slightly toward his collarbone. She continued to struggle against his aether, doing her best not to pay attention to how the energy stopped and settled in her lower abdomen. Her body _liked_ that feedback, she realized as she tried not to squirm in place.

She focused, and eventually felt his aether concede a truce and relent. After that, Zenos’ flesh was exceedingly willing, and it only took a few minutes of her applying healing spells to encourage the wounds to seal themselves shut. She rubbed her potion-slick palms over the lingering pink marks, marveling internally at how well his body had taken to being healed, once her aether had won his over.

A soft, subdued noise of relief rattled in Zenos’ throat as he let his head fall back against the pillows. His cheeks were flushed.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice returning to its usual low growl. “For your… kindness.”

She smiled down at him. Were her cheeks as red as his? She hoped not, even though she could feel heat there. “It seems I cannot help myself but aid when I see a lost cause.”

Zenos snorted and tipped his head to the side. He was silent as he watched her collect the soiled bandages and cloak and set them aside, and then wash his blood from her hands. She hoped that he could not tell the effect her efforts had on her.

“Are you well?” he asked. “Your cheeks are red.”

“Yeah? So are yours.”

He grunted softly, right hand self-consciously raising to press at his cheek for a brief moment.

“You came all the way here, just to assist me. To grant me healing and succor when not another soul on this damned star would.” He lifted the hand on his newly healed arm and flexed his fingers. “I feel as though I should repay you somehow.”

Summer Ruby looked down at the man as she dried her hands. Looked at Zenos yae Galvus, the terror of so many nations, his broad frame spread out casually on the sheets. Stripped down to his trousers, his left arm covered in still healing pink scars, one would almost think he looked vulnerable. But she had not survived all her trials by being foolish enough to think that he possessed a shred of vulnerability in his being.

Her palms tingled, and something buried in her mind wanted to touch his skin again, to call forth his aether. She wanted to examine it, examine _him_ , to ask why her aether responded to his. She had healed many people over the years, and had never experienced that strange sensation before. What was the cause of it? What was he doing to her? _Why did it feel good_?

Good, yes. She remained extremely aware of the heat that had settled between her thighs. Proximity to his warm, bare skin was not helping matters. She knew she should step away, tell Zenos to have a good day, and go the hells home. But their tangle of aether had stirred something ancient and aching inside of her, something that she would not be able to solve the mystery of in the safety of her own home. She knew she had to get the answer from Zenos.

And she knew part of her wanted to.

“Yes, I think perhaps you should.” She returned to the bed and unceremoniously hauled herself up onto it next to him. She caught his gaze flicking to her hands, as though checking for a weapon, but he made no move to stop her as she lightly pressed her fingertips to the smooth surface of his belly. His pale skin was hot to the touch, yet a shiver shuddered through the points where their skin made contact. When she drew her vision back to his, Zenos’ eyes were wide, pupils set to match.

He whispered: “I-I am not injured elsewhere.”

Summer Ruby chuckled. “Of course you aren’t.” Zenos made a noise of curiosity as she swung a leg over him and straddled his waist.

“Ahm.” He looked up at her. His gaze shifted down her front, halfway down her chest, before quickly snapping back to her face. “What did you have in mind then?”

She shifted her weight back. “I think you’re a smart enough man to figure that out, Zenos.” The prince’s body had definitely sussed out the meaning of her actions, even if he seemed to be struggling with them.

Zenos swallowed. His hands came to rest on her hips, but the touch was light. “I do seem to recall you saying you were not going to lay with me.”

“I’m not,” she said. “You’re just thanking me for healing you.”

“I see.” He looked up at her again through his long black lashes. “Is thy husband not taking proper care of you, my blessed beast? Is he not being true to his marital duties?”

Summer Ruby did her best to hide a flinch at his pointed words. “Since my return, he knows I have been unwell and oft has been reluctant to do anything too vigorous in his reluctance to hurt me.” She walked her fingers up the center of his chest. “He does not appreciate the nature of a beast as you do.”

Now his hands squeezed at her flesh. “Then, I will see what I can do to repay your kindness.”

She leaned, pressing her pointer finger to his lower lip. “I’m not forcing you to do this. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, Zenos.”

His consent ghosted against her skin: “I want to.”

A thrill coursed down her spine and settled amongst the heat between her thighs. “Good.” She leaned away again, dragging her fingers down his chest in admiration of the smooth lines of his firm flesh. A soft groan tumbled in his throat, and she felt his fingers clench at her hips. She shook her head as his nails began to dig into the fabric of her leggings. “You can’t leave any marks.” She laughed at his growl of protest. “Consider it a challenge.”

“A challenge?” His eyes sparked, and a feral grimace of a grin sprang to his lips. “I can handle a challenge from you, Warrior of Light.”

She wasn’t sure he could, wasn’t sure that he could hold back that much. “Prove it to me, then.”

Zenos sat up, the momentum of his massive frame causing her to end up on her back. Her hands went to his throat, fingers clenching in dark lines along the ivory skin. His grin widened, and he shook his head.

“Calm down, be--” He paused, tongue darting between the sharp lines of his teeth. “Summer Ruby. No--” His pale eyes lit up. “ _Aesta_. May I call you that?”

She pressed her thumbs against his pulse, her mind trying to place where she had heard the name before. No, the source did not matter now; all that mattered was the intent. “If it stops you from calling me ‘beast’, then I’m willing to accept the nickname.”

Zenos considered this. “Fair enough. Aesta, I will not hurt you until you tell me to. You are simply _overdressed_ for this sort of sport.”

“Oh.” She stared up at him, at his devoted attention. She considered for a moment that if she were wanting to back out of this _sport_ , this was her last chance to do so. His body was warm and radiant, his pulse eager under her fingers. His eyes, sky blue and afire with his want. There dwelt an eager gleam, and Summer Ruby was reminded of their last encounter, of his urgent kisses on the bluffs. Perhaps he had been trying to provoke her into something other than violence. In his damaged mind, they must have been so very similar.

She did not want to back out of this. She wanted to save him, to spare him from that dreadful association.

“I can do it,” she said, releasing her grip on his neck. He shook his head.

“Allow me to help.”

She arched a brow. Zenos did not seem the sort to have ever had to put effort into bedding a woman--if anything, seemed more the sort to have a courtesan delivered to him already disrobed by a pandering noble. “Are you sure you can do that? You don’t seem the type to have experience undressing women.”

He grimaced at the insult. “Of course I can. It’s just some leather kit, not a full set of plate armor.” The last word rattled dangerously in his throat.

She made a shushing noise and pressed her fingers to his lips. His breath tickled between her fingers. “I spoke in jest. At such a jab, most men would have puffed up and declared their unparalleled prowess. I should have expected you to not be of that sort.”

His lower lip brushed against her fingers. “I’ve no need of such things.”

“Clearly. I’m--my apologies.” Summer Ruby patted lightly at the corner of his mouth. “Let me sit up.”

Zenos did as she demanded, shifting his weight away and adjusting to rest on his knees in front of her. It was a surprisingly smooth, graceful motion despite his large size. She sat up, trying not to look down, trying not to look at how tightly the dark linen of his trousers clung to his thighs, and how it left absolutely nothing to the imagination further up. It was nearly an impossible task, and she drew her knees together as her eyes met the boundary of fair skin and sable fabric and slid down, down to where the linen strained to contain the bulge of the prince’s manhood. It looked in proportion to the rest of him, but _by the Twelve_.

She was glad, in a way, that she had not dressed too heavily before leaving for Gridania. Not that she ever did, but she found herself now stricken by an urge to get out of her clothing as quickly as possible. She took Zeno’s hands, so large against her own, and led them to the collar of her leather tunic.

“Don’t damage anything,” she said. “I have to wear this back to Ishgard.”

A flick of those blue eyes to hers, a small nod, and then back to the task under his hands. His fingers were surprisingly nimble, releasing the little catches on each buckle down the front with ease. She sucked in a shaky breath as his hands lingered at the curve of her breasts before continuing. When she felt the last buckle release its hold on her, she pushed his hands away. Zenos watched, as though trying to memorize the action, as she carefully shrugged out of the tunic. It was tossed over the side of the bed. 

While she flexed her arms and worked at the dark blue fabric of her girdle, she asked: “How long have you been wanting this, Zenos?”

His eyes were on her hands, and his shoulders rolled in a shrug. “I don’t know when, exactly. I never had this sort of distraction come to mind before you. But, perhaps in Ala Mhigo, at the palace. Up on the roof, when you followed me up, so beautifully bloodied from our battle. I wanted you then.” He swallowed. “But it was not the right time. We had greater roles to fulfill that day.”

“But, if the primal hadn’t been there?”

“Mm.” Zenos looked away, towards some dark corner of the room. His palm rubbed over the front of his trousers, and he licked his lower lip. “I would have laid you down and made you scream, there amongst the flowers.”

She exhaled as the fastening on the fabric came loose. “I accepted you that day, Zenos.”

“And now?”

“Now, I… I don’t know.” She tossed the girdle aside. 

“What was that?”

“Just my girdle. It’s for, uh, maternity related issues. Don’t worry about it.”

Zenos made a noise in his throat, eyes sweeping over her skin and hands reaching to follow. His gaze dragged over her flesh, and the rough pads of his fingertips traced a matching trail. First down the long lines of her arms, and then over her abdomen, down until he got near her belly button and a quiver coursed through her body. “So many scars.”

She shivered again as his thumb brushed against an old mark on her side. “Yes, well, I’m not as good at dodging as you are.”

He chuckled and slid his hands back up. “I like them on you.”

Yes, he’d said something like that before, hadn’t he? “Good.” She licked her lips. “Some of them are yours.”

“I can tell.”

Their smallclothes and trousers came off easily, almost eagerly and of their own accord. Summer Ruby lay on her back again, looking up at Zenos. He was just as large and muscular a man as she expected, but managed to carry it with an artful poise. Perhaps one day she might indulge herself and explore his form better, but today was not the time for that. The fire that his aether had stoked in her body had not gone out, and she needed it tended to _now_.

Zenos’ eyelids were lowered, and there was fresh color on his cheeks. “What are your orders, my lady?”

She shifted her knees apart, not breaking eye contact. “Don’t leave any marks. Make me scream.”

That feral grin sprang back to his handsome features, and Zenos wasted no further time with any niceties. His every movement belied the careful restraint of his physical power. He hooked a big hand under both knees and tugged her legs apart, shifting her until her hips left the bed and she had to brace her arms against the covers. Zenos arranged himself between her thighs, and she could feel the head of his cock press at her entrance. She squirmed and bit her lip to hold back a rather shameless noise of excitement.

“All this, just for me?” he purred, words a tease. His cock slid along her slit, coating it in her wetness. She nodded twice, little sharp motions, and that was all the encouragement he needed.

Zenos entered her slowly at first, past the initial resistance, waiting for her body to adjust around his intrusion. He looked down to where they were joined, and smiled. Then he thrust in, _hard_ , nearly bottoming out in the first movement.

“ _Ah!_ ” She could not help the soft cry of pain that bubbled past her lips as he filled her. No, Zenos was definitely more than she was used to accommodating, and far too large for her to take without more foreplay. Her own fault, perhaps, he lacked her experience and she would have to be more mindful of such things if they did this again.

He hovered over her, smile frozen on his face, but something akin to concern in his eyes. “Too much?”

“Just give me a minute.” Summer Ruby was faintly aware of his nod as she closed her eyes, focusing on him inside her, waiting for her body to decide that this burgeoning fullness was a good thing. She was aware of the fingertips of Zenos’ right hand tracing a circuit along the outside of her thigh, before moving down to dance along to the point of their joining. The rough pad of his thumb bumped against her clit and she gasped, reflexively clenching on him, and felt a responding twitch of his muscles against hers.

“Oh, careful, Zenos!” She sucked in a shaky breath, belly clenching as he slowly withdrew. “Do it again, just slower.”

“Slower,” he murmured, as though the concept were a novelty. “Did you not tell me to make you scream?”

“One thing at a time.” She pursed her lips and exhaled. “We want good screams, not bad screams.”

He stared down at her, and she could see him _thinking_. Then his eyelashes fluttered and he nodded. He slid in again, slower, but no less filling. His gaze remained on her face as he thrust in a third time, full to the hilt. He smirked as she moaned and pressed the back of her head into the covers.

“Ah, good, good!” She adjusted her positioning, trying to free up her hands. It was difficult--her body felt too pleasantly heavy and full to move. Zenos was still quite sizable, yes, but now that she’d time to acclimate to him it felt glorious. She wouldn’t have minded staying just like this, filled to the brim with him, but the prince had other ideas.

After all, she had told him to make her scream.

His hands moved to her hips, securing her in place as he began to thrust in earnest. She clamped her right hand over her mouth, but it did little to muffle the moans that each thorough stroke elicited from her. She hooked her long legs along his sides, but there was no need to pull him in deeper--Zenos was already doing that for her. 

He leaned down, mouth finding her right breast, sharp teeth dancing over the sensitive skin but never quite biting down. She shivered as his tongue teased at the underside of her nipple, before abandoning her breast to run a wet line up to her collarbone. His jaw flexed again as though ready to bite, but stayed the motion. Instead his lips fluttered over her skin, along her throat and to the curve of her jaw.

“[Beautiful],” he growled in Garlean against her throat. “[My beautiful Aesta.]”

She pulled her hand from her mouth and grabbed at his hair, tugging it and bringing his mouth up to hers. She gave him her breath and filled his lungs with her needy moans. His breath burned at her throat when she inhaled.

Zenos did not pull away from the kiss. A subtle growl rattled in his throat--he remained as desperate to give as she was to take. Her hips jerked to meet his, and the growl choked off.

They broke apart, each panting for breath. Summer Ruby managed to open her eyes, looking up at Zenos, taking in the line of sweat on his brow and the immense intensity of his blue eyes. She hazily wished she could know what he saw when he stared at her with such fervor. But in that moment, her body cared not for what her mind craved, and her left hand moved to seize his right from its grasp on her hip. 

“Zenos, please!” she gasped, and pressed his hand to where they were joined. His fingers curled, dancing against the sensitive nub of flesh that was in boundless need of his touch. It did not take much--his attentions had already built the pressure too great inside her to be contained.

The noise that escaped her when she came was not a scream, yet still quite the voluminous noise of bliss. Her body bore down upon him, and her fingers clenched his hair so tightly that she was faintly aware of him wincing.

His lips found hers again when he came. Zenos merged with her completely, hips flush to hers. She moaned joyfully into his mouth at the rush of his warmth deep inside her.

It took a few minutes for him to come back down. After his breathing had steadied, Zenos tipped his head and whispered: “Give me a little while and we can do that again.”

She could already tell she was going to be sore, but nodded in agreement anyway.

Afterwards, they lounged in the dull light of the late afternoon. She lay pressed to his side, warm against the cool of the Gridanian dusk. His arm rested heavy around her middle, and his fingers ran a possessive line down her ribcage. She stared at the wooden patterns of the ceiling and tried not to dwell upon what she’d done--tried not to dwell upon the fact that she _did not feel remorse_ for the action, not at all. She felt empty and peaceful in a way she had not since before watching Emet-Selch die in front of her.

Summer Ruby tried not to think about that, either. Not right then.

Zenos was quiet, his breathing even, and were it not for his slowly petting fingertips, she would have thought he had possibly drifted off to sleep.

Eventually his low voice pierced the quiet: “How do you feel, my Aesta? Any better?”

She considered the warmth that still thrummed through her body. “In a fashion.”

“Good. I would hate for my efforts to have been found lacking.”

Oh no, she thought. They had been anything but lacking.

“No, I…” She licked at her lower lip, tasting the salt there. “Thank you, Zenos.”

“My pleasure.” He sounded smug, but she could not entirely blame him for that. She had wrung everything out of the man that she could in an effort to satisfy her own wants and needs, and he had not disappointed. The bruises already purpling down his sides and scratches painting his back vermilion were testament to that.

After a few minutes of quiet, he spoke again, his tone taking on one of idle speculation. “You know, it was unwise of you to let your guard down around me. There probably would have been something spectacular to impaling you with both sword and cock at the same time.”

She blushed. “That’s vulgar. And in bad taste.”

“I know.” He hummed softly, the magitek gears clicking away in his head once more. “Still, unwise to let your guard down. With my powers as they are now, I could easily spirit you away from here. Take you away, and your Scions and your husband might never find you.”

Summer Ruby had been dimly aware of the fact but not dwelled upon it before now. “Why the restraint?”

He gave a little noncommittal grunt, and his fingers continued their path along her skin. 

It was not long before he continued his musings. “You could come back to Garlemald with me, continue the hunt there. Become my Aesta yae Galvus. Help the empire conquer the Eorzean resistance. We could do it quite easily--just the two of us. Then the entire world could be our hunting grounds.”

She tried not to focus on the proffered name and the meaning behind it, and instead settled on the second half of what Zenos had said. She frowned and shook her head slightly, her right ear brushing against the side of his face.

“You know I could not do that. I could not betray Eorzea like that.”

His fingertips squeezed at her ribcage. “You already have, haven’t you?”

“From what I have heard amongst the rumormongers, you’ve relinquished your claim to the throne. So, I’m not sure I have.” She poked his arm. “Also, I’m still married. And you swore an oath not to kill him.”

He grunted softly, fingers still tight on her ribs. “The offer still stands.”

Summer Ruby sighed and shifted her weight, but the man’s arm was keeping her in place. She had never considered Zenos to be a man of fanciful thoughts, his mind trapped on course to the hunt, and she was not sure where his offer had come from.

“Even were I to say yes to that, I would never be more than an _aan_ to your people,” she said. “And I would, as the hero of the Eorzean alliance, never be accepted.”

“They don’t have to accept you. They never were really ones for accepting anyone. I suppose that is why the provinces keep rebelling.” He tipped his head to the side, and she could see him gazing at her now in her peripheral vision. “They should continue to fear you, as they do now.”

“As they do you?”

She felt the tip of his thumb move from one rib to the valley between it and the next. There was a slight, painful pressure at the touch.

“Yes.”

“I’m not afraid of you, Zenos.”

His chest twitched slightly in amusement. “Of course you are. You have already admitted such to me, first through actions and then through words.”

Summer Ruby frowned. That much was true. She had already told him that she only continued to meet with him in private in hopes that it would keep him out of Ishgard--that was the point of their accord. That was all she could really do right now--Zenos was beyond a simple death, so it wasn’t like a few messy stabs to the gut would resolve that issue with him.

Zenos made an amused noise in his throat. It was a strange sound, coming from him, and it snapped her from her introspection.

“Your pulse went up, Aesta. Are you thinking about killing me?”

“I am, frequently,” she said, forcing lightness into her voice. “It’s something of an old habit of mine.” She moved her hand, trying to pry his fingers from her chest. “Let me go.”

“No.”

She grimaced as his grip tightened. “You could at least call me by _my_ name then.”

He breathed in her ear, voice dropping to a purr. “Summer Ruby.”

She blushed. “You didn’t have to say it like _that_!”

He shrugged. “You weren’t specific.”

Zenos’ grip slackened as he resumed idly petting at her ribs.

“I enjoy arguing with you,” he said.

“What?”

“I enjoy it,” he said in slower repetition. “It seems like the only fire I can get out of you, these days.”

“If I bore you now, why not just leave me be?”

His hand stilled again. “Selfishness, on my part. I can be a patient hunter, my little wild rabbit. I have all the time in the world, and nothing else that interests me.”

She said nothing, thinking only that Zenos really needed to find a hobby. _I am the hobby_ , she thought.

“Don’t you want to fight, at all? Surely you were a fighter before you became the Warrior of Light.”

Of course she still enjoyed fighting, she thought. She could still fondly remember when she had first learned to use a bow, and killed her first target. It had been exhilarating. She had been hooked. She remembered when the bow string had snapped and left her face scarred. The blood had seeped into her eye and down her cheek and she had felt _alive_. But, now?

“I don’t remember the last time I fought, just for myself. I became the world’s savior far too early on.”

“You can still fight me. Just you, just me. For no country, for no banners. Just us. Just bloody breathless battle for the sake of it.”

His words stirred an old temptation in her heart.

“While you were… gone, I continued my training. Learned a new style of fighting.”

“Oh? Tell me.”

“It’s called Kriegstanz, a sort of dance combat style from Thavnair.”

His eyes flickered with excitement. The hand at her chest moved to grab her hip. He pulled her on top of him. She let out an indignant squawk at being hauled about so easily.

“Show me. I want to see.”

Her cheeks flushed at the contact of her thighs against his warm skin. “I can’t right now. I don’t have the gear with me.”

Zenos gave an impatient sniff. “Then go get it and come back and show me.”

Summer Ruby could not help but smile down at him. “Perhaps I will sometime. Would you like that?”

“Of course I would. I wish to fight you.”

“I could fight you now, I have my rapier.” She placed a hand on his chest. “But, I don’t know how pleasurable that would be for you, just brutalizing me while I try to get a spell cast.”

“Fighting mages has never been that satisfactory for me,” he murmured in agreement. He lifted the hand that was not gripping her hip. “Show me your rapier.”

She pressed her palm against his. “Show me your rapier, _please_.”

He grunted and shook his head. “Just get it.”

Summer Ruby sighed. It took her a moment to free himself from his gravity and rediscover her own. She still nearly fell off the bed. She could feel his gaze on her back as she rubbed at her hip and carefully went to the bench where her gear waited. 

Zenos had shifted into a seated position when she returned with her rapier and focus. There was something amusing about this appearance--him sitting stark naked but with the attentive expression of an eager schoolboy.

“You’re smiling. Why?”

She sat in front of him on the disheveled bed. “No reason. I appreciate your interest in my weapon.”

“I am interested in all weapons.” Zenos took the blade in hand when she offered it to him. The rapier was a simple sword--a long blade that suited her size, crafted of some recycled steel that emitted a faint red glow. The hilt was crafted in silver and some bloody red laminate stone.

“It’s not much, I know. But it serves its purpose.”

“It is of sturdy enough construction for a stabbing weapon.” His eyes looked to the focus still in her hands. “And that?”

“This is the focus,” she said. She held out the red crystal, set in its twisting lattice of silver and red stone. “It’s made to go with the rapier. It attaches to the hilt and helps increase access to the natural aether I can use. The rapier becomes a conduit of sorts.”

He made a thoughtful noise, reaching out and tapping the crystal with a nail. “That you savages can do these things so innately is still a mystery to me.”

“I’m sure it is.” Summer Ruby focused on the red crystal and held out her hand. After a moment, she felt her aether easily flow out, dancing within latent aether that was drawn to the focus. Zenos made the faintest of noises in his throat when the focus lifted and peacefully floated several inches above her open palm. He tapped at the crystal again and tipped his head to the side as it rotated in the air. She watched him, unsure what to make of the almost childlike expression on the man’s face as he watched her weapon do what seemed borderline boring to her after years of practice.

“I’ve never seen it up close like this before,” he said in a murmur. He flicked his fingers through the pale blue fog of aether that had gathered around the crystal.

“I’ve always found it rather pretty to look at,” she said. “And calming, in a way.”

“I would have thought it nothing more than an ornamental piece, but…” He shook his head. For a moment his brows drew together, and he looked almost perplexed. “This is your aether, then, that is supporting this focus?”

She wondered at his shift in expression. “Yes, it is. Why?”

Zenos murmured, almost to himself. “Then, it was you I felt when we…” His cheeks turned red, and he cleared his throat. “When you healed me.”

Summer Ruby wasn’t really sure as to how experienced with his own aether than the man was, to know what someone else’s felt like. “What do you mean, Zenos?”

“When you healed my neck. I felt the healing magic, but there was something else. Like a spark trying to work its way into my veins. I thought perhaps you had used some sort of levin spell on me, but it did not _hurt_.”

“You didn’t say anything.” Her concentration lapsed, and the focus settled back into her palm.

“I was uncertain that I had not imagined the feeling,” Zenos said. “So I said nothing. And I wasn’t going to say anything again after we--” He gestured vaguely between them. “I didn’t want you to think I did not appreciate your endeavors.”

She muffled a laugh with her free hand. “We _fucked_ , Zenos. I pulled your hair and bit your shoulder and you made me scream, and we fucked. You can say that, you know, when it’s just us.”

His cheeks were red. “We did all that and I felt your aether touch mine. I don’t know how it’s usually done amongst the savages, but I do not think that part of the process is normal.”

Summer Ruby let out a shaky breath. “I can say from experience that it’s definitely not normal.” She shook her head. “I honestly thought it was something you were doing. I kept-- I kept feeling your aether, when I was healing you. Like it was fighting against mine, until I guess I won it over.”

Zenos stared down at her. “What does that mean?”

She snorted at another laugh. “I have no idea, Zenos. I may be able to freely use my aether, but that doesn’t mean I really understand how it all works.”

“That seems an oversight in your leadership. In Garlemald, the commonfolk have to complete training and certification before they’re permitted to keep any sort of weapon on their person.”

“Fair, but aether isn’t intrinsically a weapon. It’s just an extension of the soul.” At the Garlean’s doubtful expression, she pressed on. “If you’re concerned about safety, I could maybe teach you? I mean, I don’t know what I could teach you, but--perhaps I could help you understand the aether better.”

“Why?”

Why indeed? Why make him stronger? What foolishness was that? She forced a touch of playfulness into her words, to hide her doubts. “Why, to make you a better hunter, of course.”

He stared at the inert focus in her hand. “I don’t know. I already well had to master my aether in order to get my body back.”

“I’m not forcing you, Zenos. It was just a thought.”

“Thoughts are dangerous,” he said. “Thoughts are how we have ended up where we are today.”

“Are you referring to our post-coital discussion of weaponry and magic?”

It took him a long moment to catch on--Zenos was no man for idle humor. But then: “Ah, you jest.” He let out a soft, raspy chuckle.

“In so many words, yes.”

His hand went to his throat, fingers brushing along the lump of his Adam's apple and up to the faint faded scar over his jugular. “I will consider your offer.” He looked at her. “Thank you, Summer Ruby.”

“Think nothing of it.” She turned the focus in her hands. “It’s getting late. I should go.”

Zenos shook his head and gestured toward his back. “No, you should stay a bit longer and heal the mess you made of my back.”

“What, you don’t appreciate my artistry?”

He was all teeth and lusty eyes. “Of course I do. ‘Tis of fine craftsmanship. But I would hate to have the stinging disturb my slumber.”

She could not help but laugh at this. “The prince needs his beauty sleep?”

He grabbed her hands in his own. She managed not to flinch at the sudden contact, at the way his hands seemed big enough to crush hers. Having long been a Roegadyn, she was still not used to the strange inequity in size between them. 

“Do it again. Heal me.” There were no niceties in his words, but she thought she heard a faint plea in his tone.

“Why?”

“I like the way it feels. The way your aether feels when it touches mine.” He tugged her closer, bringing her palms to lay on his shoulders. She flexed her fingers against his bare skin, feeling the dense muscles at rest beneath the surface. She recalled the way his aether had pushed and pulled against hers when she had healed him earlier. She could still not explain the effect the contact had on her, why it had made her soul sing out with desire. Did it do the same to him?

“Fine,” she said, and let out an exaggerated sigh. “But I leave after that.”

“Never,” he growled out, and captured her lips with his own. The warm skin beneath her fingers prickled with aether that was not her own--his, seeping subtly from the scratches on his back. It caught her aether and snagged it, reeling it back in rather than repelling it as before. She sucked a breath in at the connection, at the flood of warmth that reached her groin, and heard Zenos let out a faint gasp in accompaniment. 

His cock was already hard again--must have been the talk of weapons and fighting, or just the aether’s doings--and Zenos wasted no time in hooking his hands under her knees and pulling her back to him. Her hands gripped at his back as his own moved to her ass, tugging her closer. She bit at his shoulder and groaned as he entered her again.

“Oh, gods, _Zenos_ \--” Her voice choked off in a gasp as he began his fervent thrusting. She dared to look down between them. She could see her slit stretched around his thickness, could see the way his earlier offerings shined as his cock disappeared into her, over and over. He filled her wholly, holding their hips together and roughly grinding, working a cry out of her that might have disturbed the guests in the room next door.

She looked up at him. He was staring down at her, intent and focused, something undeniably ardent melded into his cold features. For a moment, the space between heartbeats, that look was more terrifying than if he had just drawn his katana on her.

Then his hips snapped forward again, and she lost the ability to care.


	13. Find You Anywhere

[[She stands alone in the shower, letting the warm water pepper her face and roll down her body. It has been a long, challenging day and she is glad for the respite of a few minutes of quiet. She rubs at the sides of her temples, willing a smoothness back to the aether there after it has spent the day holding her mask fast to her face.

There is a soft knock on the bathroom door before it slides open, and his handsome face peeks in. She smiles at him over her shoulder.

“Am I interrupting?” he asks as he removes his mask and sets it next to hers on the counter.

“Yes, but I had hoped you might. Care to join me, love?”

He is already wiggling out of his robes and underclothes and draping them on the rack by the time she finishes asking. He steps under the water next to her, leans in and presses his forehead to hers. His arms coil around her middle and pull her close. She can feel the tingle of his aether as it mingles with hers.

“I wanted to tell you congratulations,” he says. “I’m afraid I heard the glad tidings from the gossips before I heard it from you, but I’m still so very proud of you.” He nuzzles at her forehead, a happy noise trembling in his throat. “My lovely conflux, the new Matrisiram. And here I thought you’d tired of teaching.”

She laughs and tips her head back to kiss at his chin. “I can’t help that it’s in my nature to fix the mistakes of others.”

“Keeper of the Ways,” he murmurs in a thoughtful tone. “You will be fantastic at it, of course.”

“You’re biased, darling.”

He smiles down at her. “If exchanging aether and going through the bonding process doesn’t let me be biased in your favor, then what was the point of the whole thing?”

“Oh, you know, in case I lose you at the market, or on a camping trip, or some other kind of emergency. I can find you anywhere.”

He chuckles as he dips his head to kiss her. “Why in the world would we go _camping_?”]]

It was a strange thing, to wake to the sound of birdsong. There were few songbirds left in Ishgard, and so she was not expecting to hear such a melody. Realization set in when she opened her eyes. She was not in Ishgard. She was in a room at the Roost in Gridania.

“Oh. Right.”

Summer Ruby sat up, wincing at a spasm of pain in her lower back. She looked down at the man next to her in the bed. Zenos was asleep, face lax, hair elegantly mussed, and his chest barely moving with breath. She considered the artful lie of his long dark eyelashes against the pale of his cheek. He was a beautiful man, she thought. It was a pity that beauty was wasted on such a monstrous person.

Aymeric was beautiful too, but his appearance was complementary to the beauty within.

She sighed and looked around, wondering where her smallclothes had been flung off to once Zenos had removed them from her person. A glint of sunlight on steel caught her eye instead. It was her rapier, forgotten and lost in the tangle of sheets overnight. With utmost care and quiet she retrieved the blade from its makeshift sheath. It weighed heavily in both her hand and mind as she looked down the length of steel, and then to the man still asleep below.

A thought occurred to her, sluggish and half unwanted, as she tipped the point of the rapier towards Zenos’ neck. It would be so easy to stab him in the throat--not too deep, just enough to pierce the jugular--and she would likely be able to get a second stab in before he woke and tried to stop her. To what end, though? The blows would not kill him, just upset him once he recovered. And it would make a bloody mess of the sheets, which would be a nuisance to explain away to the Roost staff.

Another thought followed, even less wanted than the first. Zenos had not hurt her during the night. He easily could have, once he had fucked her to the edge of screaming and she had succumbed to slumber’s peaceful grasp. She could see his katana resting against the wall next to the bed, well within the man’s reach. But he had chosen not to harm her. He hadn’t even been touching her when she woke up. She knew the Scions--and Lyse especially, that bitter harpy--would be disappointed in her for not taking the chance to strike at their enemy.

But she could not do that. She could not be that kind of hero.

After finding her weapon’s focus near the foot of the bed, she made her way over to the bench where her gear waited. The movements made her extremely aware of her aching muscles, and of the sticky residue that still clung to her inner thighs. She blushed, resolving to stop somewhere to clean up before returning to Ishgard proper. The flesh between her thighs was still tender and reactive to her every step. Ah, the was going to be a difficult one to explain away if Aymeric was interested in having sex in the next day or two. She could probably lie and say she was on her menses, that would likely work as Aymeric shied away from that part of her. She couldn’t remember when her last period had been, if she was being honest with herself, but she was also pretty certain that Aymeric would not check.

“Were you departing with the dawn?” Zenos’ voice drifted from the bed. Her shoulders jerked in surprise and she looked to the man. He was propped up on one elbow, eyes squinting against the morning light. “Don’t be foolish. Come back to bed.”

She set her rapier on the bench. “That would be the more foolish option, Zenos.”

He grunted and kicked his elbow out, flopping back into the pillows. “Close the curtains before you leave, then.”

Summer Ruby paused, puzzled by his flippancy. “You aren’t going to try and make me stay?”

“No,” he said, eyelids heavy but gaze still locked on her. “You need to go home to feed your child, do you not?” He squished the side of his face into the pillow she had recently vacated. “Women still do that, yes?”

She blushed, hands moving to self-consciously flutter over her breasts. “Oh. I suppose they do. I can’t. Not for Merle’s lack of trying, but since I’ve returned from the First I just… can’t.” She did not know if it was the change to Viera or nearly being consumed by the Light that had done it, but she had been quietly disappointed to find that she could not feed her own child when she returned to Ishgard.

“A loss,” he murmured, eyes closing.

Looking around the room did not provide her with the items of clothing she needed. “Zenos.”

“Mm?” He did not open his eyes.

“Do you know where my smallclothes are?”

A satisfied smirk played on his lips. “Mm, I do. I claimed them as a victory prize.”

She rolled her eyes. “Zenos, I can’t leave without my underwear.”

“How unfortunate for you.”

“Do you--” She hesitated, knowing it was not a question she should be asking. Hells, she had no idea why she was even asking it. “Do you want me to stay a little longer?”

He said nothing, but a long muscular arm extended and offered his hand. She sighed and pushed it away.

“Get off my pillow.”

His reply was muffled. “Mine now.”

Zenos was awake when she stirred again. He was sitting up, leaning against the headboard and staring at the sun dappled wall opposite. The brightness of the light told her that only an hour or two had passed since she had settled back down next to him in bed.

She looked up at him, eyes lingering on the bruises that had bloomed on his shoulder overnight before continuing on to his expressionless face. “Are you alright, or is the unsettling blank staring something you do out of habit?”

He blinked a few times before tilting his head to meet her gaze. “Sometimes I like to think in the mornings.”

Her fingers reached and twisted at a lock of blond hair that had fallen over his shoulder. “Thinking about the great hunt, or something else?”

A few beats passed before he said: “Something else.”

Summer Ruby wondered what sorts of things might occupy the man’s mind when he was not thinking about his great hunt. She was curious, but also honestly a touch afraid of knowing. She supposed that if it were something Zenos thought she ought to know, then he would tell her. It was better not to press the issue, lest she evoke some new violence from him.

Zenos shifted his weight on the mattress. “Thank you for healing me yesterday.”

“Thank you for thanking me,” she said.

They shared a smirk.

She slipped off the bed and went over to her pack. “I still need my smallclothes.”

“I’ll think about it,” he said.

His eyes were on her when she returned with a small wooden comb in hand. His gaze was as intense as ever, but she found that she was starting to get used to the look. She sat on the bed and set about working the comb through the tangle of her ruby red hair. He watched her now as well, pale eyes tracking the movement of her hand.

After a few minutes she had cleared out the worst of the tangle, and held the comb out to him.

She said teasingly: “Do you want to comb your hair, too?”

He grunted and shook his head. “You do it.”

“You aren’t a child, Zenos. Surely you can manage your own hair.”

Zenos scooted away from the headboard and turned his back to her. Again, he said: “You do it.”

Summer Ruby sighed and re-positioned herself. Running her fingers down the long length of the prince’s hair, she found it almost entirely without any knots or tangles despite its disheveled state. It was soft and healthy, and gleamed like strands of Thavnarian silk between her fingers. She snorted softly in amusement at the thought of the man taking the time to groom himself after laying waste to an entire battlefield.

“What?”

“Nothing. You have lovely hair, Zenos. How do you manage?”

He shrugged. Perhaps he was just lucky. She started to work the comb through his hair, running her fingers behind the comb with each pass of the wooden teeth. Zenos was quiet, posture relaxed, as though he were temporarily at peace with the world.

After a few minutes, he murmured: “You have a mother’s touch.”

She considered his words and smiled. “Yes, I suppose I do.”

“It’s nice.” His head drooped, and his next words were nearly whispered: “It makes me feel safe.”

Summer Ruby smiled at his atypical words. “Why would a man like you need to feel safe?”

“I usually don’t. But, I just spent an intimate night with the only person in the world who has ever presented me with the possibility of my vulnerability. The fact that I instead feel safe next to you is perplexing.” He reached back, long fingers stopping the comb. “Do you feel safe with me?”

It was something she had not considered, even though she knew she ought to have. She was kneeling, naked, behind a man who could easily kill her with his bare hands. So no, better judgement told her she should not feel safe.

“I would not call it safe, Zenos. You could probably kill me with just the comb.”

He made a noise of agreement. “Most likely.”

“But when you’re calm, you’re… somewhat comfortable to be around.”

“‘Calm’?”

“You know, not acting like a feral animal. Not actively trying to get me to fight with you.”

“I do still wish to battle with you, Aesta.” Zenos released his grip on the comb. “You may continue.”

She finished smoothing out his hair. “Why don’t you braid your hair, like your father? Isn’t that a royal thing or something?”

He grimaced briefly, but did not otherwise seem bothered by her mention of the man he had slain. “My father never braided his own hair. He had a servant for that.” He paused and made a thoughtful noise. “Or Regula, when they were around before they died.”

She snorted at the mental image. “The Legatus braided your father’s hair?”

“They were… very close friends,” Zenos said. “Since childhood.”

“Oh.” Summer Ruby pulled a long lock of blond hair from next to his right brow and started to work it into a braid. “Your father must have held me in contempt for Regula’s death, then.”

“I never spoke to him of the matter,” he said. “But you did not kill Regula, an eikon did. If anything, it simply hardened my father’s resolve to continue with his plans to eradicate the eikons.”

That was true, she thought. “Perhaps they will be able to find each other again in the Lifestream.” It was a nice thought, even though she did not believe that Varis zos Galvus was a man who deserved nice thoughts.

“Perhaps so.”

Summer Ruby finished off the thin braid and held it out over his shoulder. She waited, expecting him to scoff at it and tell her that he was not his father, and that he did not need his hair braided.

Zenos looked at it for a long moment before tucking the braid behind his right ear with the softest murmur of thanks.

Outside the mid-morning bells rang.

“You should be going soon,” Zenos said, tone flat.

She considered the hours that she had been gone. “Aye, if I’m away much longer my absence might begin to draw concern.”

He was quiet as she slipped off the bed. She had finally found her smallclothes--somehow underneath the bench next to her boots where they definitely had not been earlier--when Zenos cleared his throat.

“I--might we do this again sometime? I would like to.”

She blushed at the wetness that lingered between her thighs as she redressed. “What, have sex?”

Zenos nodded, almost eagerly. “Yes.”

“I thought that was just something the lesser beasts indulged in,” she said. “Are you becoming a beast yourself, Zenos?”

“Mayhap I am.” He watched as she redressed, pupils wide and dark. “All the better to understand my prey.”

She buckled her top. “Ah, so is there more to life now than just violence for its own sake?” She gave her hips a playful wiggle. “Something else to fill that dreary void in your existence?”

Zenos flashed a crooked smile. “I’m starting to believe that there might be, yes.”

Summer Ruby sniffed at herself. “Ugh, hopefully no one will notice that I reek of sex.” She decided against putting her red coat on, and instead sat on the bench to replace her boots. He was still watching her, fixated.

When he spoke his voice was a touch strained. “So, may we?”

“What--” She realized that she had not answered his previous question. “Oh, the sex.” She sighed. “I don’t see why not, just try not to go overboard on summoning me with that intent. Once a moon, maybe. And--” she pointed at his arm. “--don’t go injuring yourself either just to get me to visit you. You’re a very clever man, Zenos. I’m sure you can figure it out.”

He rolled over onto his belly and propped his chin in his palm. “Of course I can figure it out. Besides, we can meet for other reasons. Combat practice, for example. A little sparring so you don't go soft before you’re ready to fight me properly.”

_Ah, there it is_ , she thought. Even the allure of sex was not enough to completely sway Zenos’ mind from his urge to fight. “We shall see, Zenos.”

She finished with the second boot and stood. Zenos remained lounging on the bed, but something melancholy had cast across his handsome features.

“Zenos?”

“I don’t want you to leave,” he said. Summer Ruby shifted uneasily on her feet, thinking of his idle musing of earlier, of how easy it would be for him to steal her away and keep her to himself.

“Now, Zenos,” she said, trying to keep a levity to her voice. “If I don’t leave, then there’s no chance for you to chase me down again.”

He pillowed his head on his forearms. “Perhaps so, but I know where you shall be. There is not much of a chase to that.”

“And even less in keeping me bound to your bedsheets.” She smiled at his grunt of dissatisfaction. “I must go, Zenos.” She stooped at the end of the bed and pressed a kiss to his forehead. She tasted the salt of his sweat when she licked her lips. “Maybe you could go take a bath, hmm? That’s what I’m planning on doing when I get back to Ishgard.”

“I think I might.” He uncrossed his arms enough to extend a hand. She took it, and immediately blushed at the tickle of his aether against her palm. “Take care, Aesta.”

“I will. Stay out of trouble.” Her fingers slipped from his.

“Perhaps.”

It was quiet in the Borel household when Summer Ruby finally returned. Snow was falling again when she materialized at the aetheryte plaza, and so despite the quiet the manor was warm and welcoming. The pleasantness of home, she mused as she returned her travel pack to its usual storage spot, and stowed her weapon nearby in its cabinet with the others. The only weapon that was not in the cabinet was her lance--that rested leaning in the corner of her little storage room, unused for some six moons now, though it felt a lifetime ago.

She announced her return to the steward before making her way to the bathroom. While the tub filled with steaming water, she stripped and stood in front of the long mirror to inspect herself. True to their challenge, Zenos did not seem to have left any obvious marks on her person. No bite marks or darkening bruises, though there did remain the tell-tale tenderness down between her thighs. The only place that felt unusual was her hand. Summer Ruby looked at her palm, feeling half certain that his aether had left a mark there. There was, naturally, nothing visible, it was just some wicked fancy of her imagination.

They had come to no conclusion about the cause of their aether’s strange interaction--only that it definitely went both ways.

While checking her neck and ears for any stray signs of blemishes, her gaze drew inward. Her left eye still bore the strange scar that it has since her initial return from the First. She leaned in close to the silvered glass, wondering if the mark would ever go away, or if it were to be some permanent reminder of when the Light had nearly destroyed her. It was an unpleasant prospect, to forever be reminded of something so torturous. 

The temperature in the tub was hot, nearly scalding, and she hissed softly as she sunk into the waters. Summer Ruby grabbed a washing cloth and some flowery scented soap and began to scrub the sex and sweat from her skin. And as she did, her mind wandered to Emet-Selch.

“I wish you weren’t dead, old man,” she muttered into the water. “You would be able to tell me what’s wrong with my eye, and my aether, and Zenos’ aether…” She sighed, lifting a foot out of the water to scrub at her calf. “There were just not enough nights to finish talking.” Her eyes began to sting, and feeling embarrassed she dunked her head into the hot water. When she surfaced her eyes yet burned with tears, and she shook her head.

“Why couldn’t you have told me everything before it was too late? I thought you were my friend, and you just… just…” She pressed the cloth to her eyes. “...let me destroy you.”

_Who would do such a thing to their friend, even under duress?_

A monster would. A lovely, ruthless monster.

_Zenos would do that to you, too. He would cut you down without remorse. Perhaps he still might_. _You should have cut his throat while you had the chance._

Summer Ruby shivered despite the heat of her immersion, and drew her knees up to her chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Ancient Vocab Time!**
> 
> **Matrisiram** : [From Latin, lit: "Mother's Ire/Anger"] - "Keeper of the Ways" - The Matrisiram was a member of the Convocation who functioned as something of a maintenance figure. They made sure everything was kept to code. It was a job that required a relentless attention to detail, and no fear of being viewed as a 'nag'. Not the most popular member at the table.
> 
> **conflux** : [From English, "confluence"] - A "conflux" was a person's spouse, regardless of gender. As a confluence was the joining of two equal rivers, marriage among the Ancients was a permanent binding of two souls.


	14. [Echo] Make Your Home in Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another flashback chapter. This is a companion to Chapter 7, but from Aymeric's PoV.

Aymeric could still recall, as plainly as anything, when he had found out he was to become a father. It was the same evening that he finally succeeded in grasping the reins of other related dreams.

Summer Ruby had, understandably, chosen to make herself scarce in the days that followed the defeat of Nidhogg and the casting of those wicked eyes into the Abyss. Well, she did once circumstances permitted her to--he had still seen her at the festivities afterwards, but it was plain to him that the Roegadyn had wanted to get away.

He had not pressed the issue, busy as he was he could not if he’d truly desired to, and had simply waited for her to return home to him. Or, at the least, he had wished it were to him. He had already been turning that thought over in his mind for some time now, had started to put it to ink several times, but had always shied away from the matter. How did you ask someone something like that? He felt almost foolish, wanting to look the vaunted Warrior of Light in the eyes and tell her ‘ _I want to be your husband. Make your home in me_ ’.

It was their secret. After all, he was quite certain that no one knew the Lord Commander of the Temple Knights had been quietly courting the Warrior of Light for nearly a year now. Courting her with his heart inked out on parchment, words only for her eyes, thoughts only for her heart. He did not think that even Lucia, one of his closest and most trusted friends, really knew the full extent of his feelings toward the Warrior. Though, she had not been above a bit of her deadpan teasing when Summer Ruby’s name had come up in a day’s report. She knew something was there, of course; she was not blind. 

He had been surprised when Summer Ruby showed up late that evening, unannounced and unattended by any Scions. Her expression had been tired, a bit restrained, but she gave off no sense of emergency or crisis in the realm that needed immediate attention. So, he had smiled and happily invited her inside. He had stood in the hallway and watched her remove her light coat of red stained leather, and thought _you should ask her tonight. Ask her before the world comes crashing down again and interrupts you and takes her away once more. Some day it will take her away forever and you will never get another chance._

“Summer! I am so very glad to see you again.” He had barely waited for her to finish hanging her coat before he’d wrapped his arms around her and given her a welcoming hug. She dipped her head down to kiss his forehead, and then further to press a gentle greeting to his lips. “Done with the festivities already? I hope you didn’t drink too much without me.”

“I didn’t drink anything,” Summer Ruby said. He’d pulled away and gazed up at her, happy to have her just to himself even if it was only for a few minutes.

“I could… I could at least have some dessert arranged.”

She smiled, a tired thing that did not reach her eyes. This had given him pause.

“My dearest one, are you well?”

“Tired, but well enough.” When he started to step away, she had taken his hand and held it fast.

“Summer?”

She’d pulled his hand and held it to her abdomen. There, over the usual hard plains of her muscles, was a gentle rise. Her expression had been nearly grim as she’d stared into his eyes, waiting for him to get her message. He had stared back, wondering why she looked so bothered, until it finally clicked.

“By the Fury, you’re--” His mind reeled, and he dropped his voice to an urgent hiss. “You mean to tell me you fought the great Nidhogg while you were _pregnant_?”

“I did not have much of a choice in the matter.” Her tone was anxious. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I’m not upset, just surprised. I did not think--well, I mean we--” He blushed.

“Definitely have had sex several times,” she offered.

“You think it’s mine?”

“Quite certain. I haven’t had time for anyone else.” She leaned toward him. “Haven’t wanted anyone else, to be very honest.”

He’d swallowed hard against a rush of feelings in his chest and smiled. “I’m flattered.”

There was an undercurrent of unhappiness in her voice when she spoke again. “This has to be kept secret.” She dropped heavily into the closest chair before continuing to speak. “I can’t just--I’m the fucking hero of the realm. But I need a few months in private. Away from the Scions. I can’t--I don’t want them involved with this, if I’m being honest.”

He knelt in front of her seat and took her hands in his own. “I will find a way to get you your privacy, Summer. For you, and for our child.”

Her eyes had been wide. “I’m scared, Aymeric. I don’t know what to do.”

Aymeric squeezed her hands, looking up at her with what he hoped was a reassuring expression. “I will do my best to be with you. You don’t have to do this alone.” He licked his lips and looked at their hands, fingers tightly twined together. “I would be honored if you permitted me to attend to your needs as your husband.”

She stared down at him, eyes still wide. “Aymeric, is this because of your father? You don’t have to--”

“I want to,” he said, cutting her off. He softened his tone again. “I’ve been wanting to. I was honestly thinking I should ask you tonight, before you’re dragged away to some other battlefield.”

“Really?”

“Indeed. But, I understand if you wish to say no to me, Summer Ruby. It is your life. Whatever you choose, I will still be here for you, always. I swore a new oath to the Fury--that I would protect you, my sword as your shield.”

“Aymeric!” She blushed, a bit of the panic leaving her face as she looked at their hands. “I would feel guilty saying yes to you, knowing that our positions would mean it all has to be kept hidden away.”

“Just for now. Not forever.” He shook his head slowly. “I love you, Summer Ruby. I know we have not had a great deal of time together, but I know what my heart tells me.”

“If you’re certain.”

“I am.”

“Then, I would be happy as your wife, Aymeric.”

“Oh, thank the Fury.” He was so relieved that he had to rest his head against her knee. She released her grip with her left hand and moved it to stroke at his hair. He murmured: “Weather thy storms in mine arms, take thy shelter in mine heart. I shall be the Light that banishes the darkness, the sword that slays thy demons, and the rampart that shields thy soul.”

“That’s lovely,” she said.

“It’s, ah, from the Halonic marriage vows,” Aymeric had explained. “I told you. I’d been wanting to ask.”

She chuckled. “So, you’ve been practicing the vows?” She ran a finger along the shell of his right ear, and he shivered.

“W-well, yes! Just a little bit.” He looked up at her, at the Warrior of Light, as she smiled gently down at him. She was radiant, he thought. He did not deserve her--he was just a man, compared to all that she was, both in Ishgard and beyond.

“I love you, Aymeric,” she said. “I would not have accepted you if I did not.” Summer Ruby bent over him and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I love you as you are, because who you are is already amazing.”

“Amazing?” He moved to stand, and she unfurled her back. “But you, you’re… you’re…”

She held out her hands, and he grasped them in his own, as ever soothed by their warmth. “None of us get to choose what life we are born into. We either rise or we do not, and you have risen so far without anyone else’s aid.” She winced at some unknown pain as he helped her to her feet. Her bi-colored gaze remained focused on him. “Everything I have done in the last few months, and everything I will do in the future has been for you. For Ishgard, to keep it safe, to keep you and my home sheltered.” Her lips came to rest on his forehead once more, warmth feeding through past his hair. “I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”

Aymeric wrapped his arms around her, now exceedingly aware of her midsection. “Oh, sweet Halone, what did I do to be blessed with you in my life?”

“I could ask her much the same.”

He took her to his room and helped her undress. She was patient and gentle hearted with him--they both knew she needed no aid with her clothing, not yet. But when he had offered his assistance she had taken it without objection. Aymeric looked her over, curious at the changes to her body. Some were subtle, but now that she was without clothes the state of her belly was more obvious.

Summer Ruby sat on the bed and leaned against the headboard. “To be quite honest, I’m glad that this business resolved when it did. I won’t be able to fit into my armor much longer, and my coat can only hide so much.”

“I still can’t believe you--” He sighed. “That’s past now, isn’t it. No sense in fretting over potentially insane actions once they’ve passed with no harm.” She made a face at him and he blushed. “Sorry, sorry. I know we all had to do things we were not keen on doing these last weeks.” Aymeric thought of Estinien, still finishing up his recuperation at the infirmary.

“Had I the leisure of just sitting on the sidelines while you and the Knights and everyone else brought Nidhogg down, I would have gladly taken that seat. My back aches and my feet hurt from squeezing them into my boots and I’ve been having trouble sleeping and--” Summer Ruby stopped her rant and sighed. “But I couldn’t. What man or woman alive would have felt they stood any chance in that battle if the Warrior of Light herself did not think the fight was worth undertaking?”

“I understand. But you must forgive me my concerns for your own well being. You are always an inspiration to us all, but I still worry for you.” Aymeric smiled at her. “Doubly so, now.”

“Well, I’ve no intention of picking up my lance for a while,” she said. “Nor any other weapon if I can manage. The world is just going to have to get by for a few moons without the Warrior of Light rushing to its rescue.”

He nodded in agreement. “I will do for you what I can.” Aymeric scratched his chin as he racked his brain, trying to think of someone he knew that would be both sufficiently trustable and in low enough demand to keep an eye on Summer Ruby. Eventually he thought of Ser Orage, a dragoon with the Order who was on permanent leave due to injuries. Aymeric had known the man since his childhood, and also knew that the man had taken up stitchery in his retirement-induced boredom. “I know a tailor. I believe he’s trustworthy enough to aid you with your attire. And in the more immediate time frame, I will see what I can do to get you more comfortable and well rested.” He scooted closer to her on the bedcovers. “You _are_ feeling well after the battle, yes?”

“I trust you mean is the baby alright,” Summer Ruby said. “Yes. He’s still hale and whole and fluttering about now and then.” She rested her left hand along the small rise of her lower abdomen. “He’s happy.”

“You can tell?”

“He has happy aether,” she said. Aymeric chuckled.

“Are you sure that’s not just your own?”

She smiled at him. “We’re both happy, right now.”

Marriage in the Holy See was a sacred, yet honestly straightforward affair. While it was common among the noble houses to make lavish productions of their wedding vows, an affianced couple could recite their vows in the presence of Halone and it would be legally binding, even without a priest present. The priest was just a formality--Halone would hear and see them regardless. However, they still needed a witness. 

Lucia politely declined, saying she was not cut out for that serious of a matter, especially as she was not a follower of Halone. She did tell them that she would be more than happy to stand guard outside the temple. There was only one other person that she and Aymeric could agree upon, who could be trusted to keep quiet about the matter afterwards.

“You’re telling me that you want me to be witness to your secret nocturnal wedding. To the Warrior of Light.” Estinien’s tone was laced with doubt and touch of sarcasm. “And, why am I inclined to do this for you, Lord Commander?”

Summer Ruby stood in the doorway to Aymeric’s office, listening in on the conversation between the two men. Aymeric was looking up at the dragoon, though his eyes occasionally darted in the direction of the door.

“I got that letchy chirurgeon’s assistant to stop trying to give you a sponge bath twice a day,” he said. Estinien snorted and shook his head.

“That’s the best you can come up with?”

Aymeric sighed. “If you do not wish to, then I--” He let out a little yelp as the dragoon clasped a hand into his black hair and pressed their foreheads together.

“You are my dearest friend, Aymeric. Of course I will witness thy vows.”

“Y-you will?”

“I would’ve been insulted if you had not asked,” Estinien said. He ruffled Aymeric’s hair before releasing his grip and turning to the door. “And you, lady Warrior, are lucky that you’re passable with a lance, or I would have objected to this whole idea.”

Summer Ruby rolled her eyes. “You’re the one who taught me how to jump, Estinien.”

“Yes. I suppose I’m a bit biased in that respect.” The dragoon shrugged. “Why the sudden need to take vows?”

“I’m pregnant,” she said. The dragoon stared at her, squinting slightly, and then cut his eyes to the side.

“Aymeric.”

The man in question let out a nervous laugh as he smoothed back his rumpled hair. “Yes, my dearest and closest friend who shant pass judgement upon me?” He yelped as his hair was grabbed anew.

“You’re fucking right I’m going to pass judgement on you! You sit around in your office and sigh and pine like some lovesick fool, and you’ve been _fucking her_ already?!”

Aymeric grimaced as Estinien shouted into his ear. “You don’t have to put it like that.”

“He’s really been quite the gentleman,” Summer Ruby said. “Please don’t yell at him.”

“He hears me better when I yell at him,” the dragoon groused. “Don’t be fooled by his schoolboy charm, Warrior. He knows exactly what he’s doing.”

“Yes, I know. That’s how I ended up pregnant.”

Estinien sighed and shook his head. “You two deserve each other.” He patted Aymeric on the back. “Just let me know what time to show up.”

They met at the Cathedral two nights later, a conspicuously inconspicuous quartet, all making their way across the fresh snow dressed for the most part as though they were meeting for some casual outing and not the rather serious and sacred institution of marriage. Only Aymeric really stood out, dressed in his lordly attire. Having seen him many times now in private, Summer Ruby had commented on the fact that she wasn’t sure that Aymeric owned anything to wear that could be considered ‘casual’. He had just laughed nervously at this and admitted to finding it easier to be in uniform than not.

“I am always on duty, like as not,” he had said. “Too many positions of too much importance to have time to lounge about.” He recognized the regretful tone in his voice, and did his best to tamp it down. He was going to his wedding, secretive as it might be, there was no sense in speaking as though he were heading off to just another meeting at the House of Lords.

Estinien was better at casual dress than he, and Aymeric was quietly glad that his friend had recently set aside his proper, bloodstained dragoon armor. That was something that Estinien would have definitely been so tactless as to wear to a wedding if he had not been told to dress otherwise. At the least, Aymeric was glad to see the dragoon recovered and on his feet, and would have likely been somewhat forgiving if the man was wearing a fresh set of armor. But, no, he wore a simple dark violet coat over his usual falconer’s top and trousers.

“Lucia, you look lovely,” the Warrior of Light said in her low, quiet voice as they slowly climbed the steps. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you out of uniform before.”

“I do not reckon that you have,” his second in command said. Aymeric had to think hard to remember the last time he had seen Lucia not proudly wearing her Temple Knight armor. It must have been more than a year by then. Now she was garbed in a dark blue raiment trimmed with silver, though she still wore her sword at her left hip.

“Perhaps you should petition the Lord Commander for some blue armor to wear during the summer,” she said. “The color suits you well.” Summer Ruby smiled mischievously at the embarrassed noise that came from the First Commander.

“If we ever have a summer season again, I’m sure we can put that into consideration,” Estinien said. He gave Aymeric a look. “Well, aren’t you going to complement her?”

He blinked. “Ah, Lucia already knows that I think her appearance is acceptable.”

“Thank you, ser.”

Estinien elbowed him hard enough in the ribs to make him wince. “I meant you should compliment your _bride to be_.”

“Oh. I--” Aymeric felt the color on his cheeks darken beyond what could be blamed on the cold. “Summer knows I find what she is wearing agreeable. I acquired it for her myself.”

“I wasn’t fishing for a compliment, Estinien,” Summer Ruby said. “But, thank you all the same.”

“I wasn’t the one--” The dragoon cut himself off at the soft laugh from the Warrior of Light. “Oh. Right. You’re as uncultured as I am. Carry on.”

Summer Ruby paused after they reached the top of the stairs. She wore simple gown of dark green satin silk that Ser Orage had happily crafted for her the day previous, and though it was not as gaudy as the fancier gowns the women of Ishgard’s high houses might had liked to wear to such outings, Aymeric still thought she looked absolutely beautiful in it. When she had first put the dress on, Aymeric had been nearly stunned. Combining her ruby red hair with the dark green folds of fabric gave the effect of a beautiful flower blooming among the ice and snow of Ishgard.

“I’ve never been much one for nice dresses,” Summer Ruby said as they approached the Cathedral. She smoothed her right hand over her abdomen. “It’s kind of difficult to find a good tailor who won’t overcharge for working in Roegadyn dimensions.”

“Well, they have to charge you for the extra fabric--” Estinien grunted softly in pain as she drove her boot heel down on the toe of his own. “Apologies, Warrior.”

“Now, Estinien,” Aymeric said. “Once we go inside, you don’t have to say a Fury-damned thing until the end.” He gave the man a pointed look. Estinien looked down at him and then up at Summer Ruby. When he smiled, it came out more as a grimace of pain.

“Yes. Duly noted.”

Their intent of having a completely secret wedding had been marred by a hapless acolyte that was up late refilling the oil lamps in the main chamber of the Cathedral. The poor young man had looked upon the arriving trio and immediately dutifully hurried over to greet them.

“Oh, um, Lord Commander, is aught amiss?” The acolyte’s eyes darted between them, and Aymeric was somewhat amused by the look of alarm that entered their eyes at the sight of the Lord Commander, Azure Dragoon, _and_ Warrior of Light all arriving in the middle of the night. To the young man’s credit, he managed to maintain the proper amount of composure.

Aymeric cleared his throat. “Nay, we simply have come to stand before Halone.” He gestured at the grand statue in the back of the chamber. “You are free to leave.”

“I’m afraid I cannot, sir,” the acolyte said. “Someone must stay in attendance when Halone is in reception of the faithful.” He flinched as Estinien leaned in, silently trying to menace the man. “My apologies.”

Summer Ruby touched the dragoon’s arm, and he grunted softly as he stepped away. Aymeric smiled at them.

“I understand that you are doing your duties,” he said. “Your service is greatly valued by the people of Ishgard.”

“Th-thank you, sir.”

“So I will permit you to stay as a witness, but what you see must be kept in absolute privacy.”

The acolyte looked between the three--the Lord Commander of the Temple Knights looking ready for a formal dinner, the blessed Warrior of Light herself, looking uncommonly soft and lovely, and the recently problematic Azure Dragoon glaring spearpoints at the young man. He cleared his throat and smiled politely.

“Words spoken here are for Halone’s ears only,” the acolyte said. “I can assure you the most sincere of privacy.”

“Thank you.”

“I-if you need them, I can fetch a written copy of the nuptial vows.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Aymeric said. “But it would be appreciated if you could get the sacramental ledger prepared for us.”

“Oh, yes. Of course, ser. I can do that for you.”

Aymeric watched the acolyte hurry off. Summer Ruby’s warm fingertips found his, grasping tightly.

“Shall we, then?”

He smiled at her. “Yes, my dearest friend.”

They walked hand in hand down the aisle between the pews. Estinien trailed a respectful distance behind.

Aymeric looked up to the statue of Halone and softly whispered thanks to the goddess for his unexpected blessings. Then he returned his attention to the woman before him. Summer Ruby smiled down at him as he took her hands in his.

_“Beloved, hear my words, mark my plea:_   
_Make thy home in me._

_Weather thy storms in mine arms,_   
_take thy shelter in mine heart._   
_I shall be the Light that banishes the darkness,_   
_the sword that slays thy demons,_   
_and the rampart that shields thy soul._   
_Make thy home in me._

_At the dawn thou art the wandering sun,_   
_And I the moons in the eve to guide thee home…”_


	15. Returning Phantoms

The air on the First was as uncomfortable as it had been when she visited some three weeks before. As before, she waited for everything to rebalance in her head before opening her eyes. Also as before, the Exarch was standing there, just slightly too close for her personal comfort. He looked to be in a cheerful mood today, which she hoped to be a good thing.

“Ah, Summer Ruby. Welcome back.” The Exarch smiled, and his ears flicked in unison. “You look well. How, um… How fares your family?”

She adjusted her pack on her shoulder. “They’re good.”

“Good.” He fidgeted his fingers along the crystalline skin of his arm. “What brings you here today, Summer?”

“I’ve come to bring home Thancred and Urianger.” She looked down at him and noticed the uneasy twitch of the Exarch’s face.

“Ah. Yes, of course.” He looked toward the portal. “Soon you will all be gone.”

“Sooner or later, yes. Well, Ryne will still be around.”

“That is true.”

She looked down at him steadily, and he looked away. _He wants you to say you’ll keep coming back to the First._ She frowned. 

“Do you know where they are? Thancred and Urianger?”

“Oh.” The Exarch leaned on his staff and nodded. “I believe they returned to Il Mheg yesterday. Urianger said something about checking for a book he wanted you to take back to the Source for him. We had already begun to suspect that you might return soon bearing ill tidings, as, well, Thancred has taken to _swooning_ at random times.” He cleared his throat. “I will summon them for you. As ever, you’re free to do what you’d like while you wait.”

“Good.” Summer Ruby turned on her heel and started for the entrance to the Ocular. She ignored the little noise of disappointment that came from the Exarch as she pushed the doors open.

Once the doors were closed she sighed. “Seven hells, but I need a drink.”

It was, admittedly, a bit early in the morning to be passing the time with alcohol. But the Wandering Stairs was seemingly always open, and several of its tables and seats at the round counter were already occupied. She supposed that a few months of having nights would not have been enough to change a century’s worth of operational habits. She took a spot at the counter and ordered an ale. Summer Ruby didn’t really feel like standing, no, but she knew from her years as an adventurer that if she sat at one of the tables someone would take it as a sign that she was open for business. As it was, the tavern wench--what was her name, Cyella?--was quietly glaring at her from the corner of her eye. She couldn’t remember anything she had done that might have upset the woman, and decided not to worry over the matter.

The bartender set her drink down in front of her, and shuffled a few fulms away when she said nothing more than a murmur of thanks. She lifted the flagon to her lips, but paused at a flicker of motion to her left. She glanced, but no one was standing at the spot next to her. She took a sip, and noticed the motion again. This time, when she stiffly glanced to her side, a figure was there, staring at her with a coy little smile on his face.

“Hello again, my dear hero. You’re looking well.”

Her body froze, and it took a great deal of effort to return her drink to the counter without spilling any. She stared down at the flagon, trying desperately not to see the figure of Emet-Selch leaning on the counter and fixing her with his golden gaze. _That’s it, I’ve finally lost my mind._ A quick glance at the bartender and wench showed that they did not see the image of the dead Ascian.

“Ah, yes,” the image of Emet-Selch mused in a sing-song tone, “Am I a ghost, some malicious phantom playing tricks on you? A hallucination, perhaps? A manifestation of that dreadful guilt you tote around in your lovely breast?” He chuckled, and she could feel his breath on her cheek. “I think you know exactly what I am, Summer Ruby. I am-”

She squeezed her eyes shut, and he fell silent. When she dared to crack them open again and peek to her right, the specter was gone.

“You alright, miss?” the bartender asked, now noticing the restrained panic on her face. “Don’t look so well.”

Summer Ruby blinked hard, trying to force the heroic mask of impassivity onto her face, but it was difficult. “I, um. Too much to drink.” She set a coin on the counter and pushed away from the bar.

The bartender looked down at her drink, still nearly full. “If you say so, miss.”

_Just a beautiful graveyard_ , she thought. _Every time I come back here, it’s just going to remind me of him_. She frowned as her feet led her away from the Wandering Stairs and down into the markets. What repercussions might there be if she chose to ignore future summons from the First? The Source was full of enough troubles of its own… No, not just troubles. There were good things too, on the Source. Her husband and her child and her people. _And Zenos_? Well, yes, Zenos was there too, and she could at least wrest some physical gratification from being around him.

 _You’ve definitely gone mad_ , _woman_.

Summer Ruby returned to the aetheryte plaza. A look toward the steps leading up to the Ocular doors showed the guard at ease, not trying to get her attention. Thancred and Urianger had not yet arrived, then. She tipped her head back and gazed at the glass of the Rotunda, and at the blue sky beyond. Again her aether reached out, plucking at the lines strung between the aetherytes of the First, and again she could not ignore the one still gleaming from where it no longer should. She decided that she wanted to investigate this anomaly. It was, at the least, something to do until Thancred and Urianger arrived from Il Mheg.

It was risky, she knew, but risky was something of her business. She thought: if she teleported into the bottom of the ocean, she would be crushed by the weight of the water. That would be a painful way to go, yes, but it would be quick. She shook her head against the morbid thoughts and closed her eyes. The aetheric currents of the First were still apparent to her, and she focused on the fabricated aetheryte of Emet-Selch’s creation still glowing weakly on its line. She dipped into the current.

For a long moment after re-materializing, Summer Ruby kept her eyes squeezed shut. Then she realized she had been holding her breath and let it out with a gasp. A quick look around the Macarenses Angle showed things as she recalled them being weeks before, and definitely not flooded by the Tempest. Things were cast in a feeble blue light--daylight from the surface, or at least some magical approximation of such. As she studied the towering architecture, she noticed that occasionally one of the buildings would shimmer and become temporarily translucent. Here and there the violet trees that lined the streets were withering. The air was stagnant and tasted slightly of iron. The Architect’s great creation was slowly beginning to come apart without him.

Or was it? She noticed movement in the distance: a flickering, fading image of a figure in a dark robe, slowly ascending the ramp leading off to the south. Summer Ruby followed. There should have been no life--real or reconstructed--left in Emet-Selch’s vision. At least, she assumed as much. The figures had all come from the Ascian’s memory, after all, so what was to sustain them when he was dead and gone? When she had reached the top of the stairs, the figure was far ahead, having taken a right and already disappearing into the first building. A quick look around showed a few other similarly incomplete shades standing about, lost in their forgotten conversations, and paying no mind to her presence.

The dark heavy doors to the Bureau of the Architect creaked loudly as they opened to admit her passage. The attendant standing near the doors bent slightly to look down at her.

“ _Good morning, ma’am. We weren’t expecting you today. Is there an inspection?_ ”

An inspection? She blinked and shook her head. “Um, no, carry on.” The attendant nodded and relaxed. Summer Ruby was puzzled by the greeting. In her previous venture to Amaurot, she and the Scions had all been treated like wandering, precocious children, but the attendant had just addressed her as an adult. Possibly an adult with whom they were familiar. She pondered this while walking slowly along the marble floor, the sound of her footsteps echoing so loudly that it made her head ache. She rubbed the spot over her left eye as she approached the door in the back of the room. A clerk was standing there, holding several glowing cubes and rolled up scrolls. The clerk startled at her approach.

“ _Oh, Matrisiram! Fancy seeing you here today. I--um--_ ” The clerk’s ringing voice, which sounded vaguely feminine to Summer Ruby, faltered as the figure looked toward the door. “ _The Chief didn’t mention anything about an inquiry today. Or an inspection. Oh, is this a surprise inspection? We weren’t told to expect one of those, either._ ” The clerk sounded flustered. She held up a hand and shook her head.

“No, no, nothing like that. I was just wondering...” What the hells was she doing? “If he is in his office?”

The clerk sagged with visible relief, nearly dropping one of the cubes. “ _Hythlodaeus stepped out not long ago. I’m surprised you didn’t cross paths. He said he was going to talk a walk over to the Secretariat to clear his head._ ” The shade’s image faded for a moment. “ _Perhaps you can yet find him there. You’re also welcome to wait here, of course._ ”

“That’s alright. It wasn’t urgent.” She thought--the Bureau of the Secretariat was where she had met the shade of Hythlodaeus weeks ago. He had been a blessed distraction when she teetered on the edge of succumbing to the Light inside of her. How many times had he gone on that final stroll now? How many times had the Final Days reset here? How did it continue to do so without its creator?

 _“Is there anything else, Matrisiram?_ ”

She was not sure if that was a name or a title, or who exactly the shade was mistaking her for. “Have you seen Emet-Selch around recently?”

The clerk was silent, motionless, the black circles of the eye holes on its mask seeming to stare blankly down at her. The pain in her head abated like a passing storm, and she sighed softly with relief. The shade finally cocked its head birdishly at her. “ _He was just here. Emet-Selch was looking for you. He didn’t say why, just muttered about apologizing when he left._ ”

Apologizing for what? She had no idea. Considering her somewhat limited experience with the Ascian, he had probably said something unkind and later regretted the words.

“How long ago was that?” A foolish question to ask a fragment of memory stuck in a temporal loop. As she expected, the clerk hesitated and shook its head.

“ _He was just here. He just left._ ” The masked face stared hard at her. “ _He was just here. He--_ ”

“I understand. Thank you.” Summer Ruby took a few steps back. “Get back to work.”

She felt fatigued as she turned and exited the Bureau of the Architect. She did not know what she had been expecting when she returned to Amaurot. The remaining shades had certainly been a surprise, but that had not been what she had wanted. No, she thought, she had been half-hoping to see a sign that some piece of Emet-Selch still clung to the world of the living. Perhaps she really was going mad. She was quite certain that if the dead man did suddenly show up in front of her, she would scream and faint. Dealing with revenants had never been her strong suit. Give her a madman with a sword any day.

Summer Ruby climbed up onto a bench and sat, crossing her legs and looking up at the wavering skyline.

“When the world was whole, and I was whole... this was home.” Saying the words out loud made her eyes sting. No, Amaurot was not home now, Ishgard was home. The frozen land was the place she had chosen to call home, to protect. She would protect Ishgard, as she had failed to protect Amaurot countless lifetimes before. She wished someone was alive that could understand what that meant. She had trouble grasping the concepts herself.

She exhaled heavily. “I wonder where ‘home’ was when I lived here.” It had to be somewhere in the recreation. Emet-Selch was definitely the sort who would include careful recreations of the places that mattered the most to him in this tableau, and the homes of his closest friends would surely rank up on that list. _Family, friends, loved ones..._

A familiar twinge of pain lanced through her head, followed by a broken ringing in her ears as her Echo activated.

[[Her apartment had a very small balcony, but it was enough for a flower box where she could let some of her collection grow in peace. Some of the blossoms were her own bored handiwork, but others were vibrant gifts from him. She looked out across the city. It was sunny today, and she could make out the roof of the Capitol building far in the distance.

“So, you’ll have to walk all the way there, now? That’s even further than the Bureau, Hades.”

Emet-Selch stood next to her. He was holding his mask in his hands, turning the new red thing over in his delicate fingers. “I don’t mind.”

She bumped her shoulder against his. “Never thought I’d grow up and be able to say I knew a great sage.”

He smiled shyly at her. “I think I may still have to grow into that part of the position.”

They stood side by side in intimate silence, watching the city below.]]

She was still on the bench when the Echo faded and she opened her eyes. Where had that come from? She was alone down here. Perhaps it was something her mind had pulled from the recreation itself, from the slowly fading memories with which Emet-Selch had embellished his work. She thought of the Ascian in her vision. He had looked similar to how he had when she had known him here on the First, though different in small ways, his long white hair being the most obvious. But other small differences existed, as though when she had seen him on the First so much time had passed that he couldn’t get his own face right. She laughed softly at the thought of such a thing.

“Thank you, Emet-Selch.”

The morning had drifted into the early afternoon by the time Summer Ruby turned from the Tempest. She had spent another hour or so wandering the streets, lost to her thoughts and a lingering pull of nostalgia. Now she spotted two of the Scions waiting for her when she materialized in the aetheryte plaza. Thancred hurried over, and Urianger leisurely trailed a few paces behind.

“We’ve been waiting for you,” Thancred said with his usual soft huff. “Where did you go?”

She had been considering her answer before teleporting back to the surface, and had decided, in this case, that it was best to be honest. After all, she hadn’t done anything _wrong_ by returning to Amaurot. Had she? “Down to Amaurot.”

Thancred, as she anticipated, reacted with a mixture of concern and disbelief. “What?! Why the hells would you go back there?”

She looked down at him. “Curiosity.”

Urianger patiently waved off Thancred’s continued noises of consternation. “Curiosity? What didst thou hope to find?”

“I don’t...” She laughed and shook her head. She couldn’t tell them what she had seen down in Amaurot. Hells, she wasn’t entirely certain she hadn’t imagined most of it. “I don’t really know. I guess I just wanted to look and see what was left.”

“That’s all and well,” Thancred said, crossing his arms and giving her a reproachful look. “While you were off _sightseeing_ in the enemy stronghold, I was here getting poked and bled like some kind of--”

“Surely the Exarch must have explained the reasoning to you. Or, Urianger, at least.”

He grumped: “Oh, yes, yes, but I would have rather gone without the bloodletting.”

“I have seen more of thine blood on a dungeon crawl,” Urianger said over the top of the other man’s head. “Thou art complaining for the sake of complaining.”

Summer Ruby gently patted the gunbreaker on the shoulder. “You want to go back to the Source, right?” She squeezed his shoulder. “I know it will be hard for you to leave Ryne behind.”

Thancred heaved a sigh and uncrossed his arms. “Yes. We’ve already said our good-byes. We were just waiting for your return.”

Summer Ruby was not deaf to the undercurrent of regret in the hyur’s voice. Nor was she blind to the sadness on his face. But, Thancred did not direct those feelings to her, but rather to the man at his side. Urianger was quiet as he nodded at his companion.

She cleared her throat and waved in the direction of the Ocular. “My apologies for keeping you waiting, then. Let’s go home.”

Calling Urianger back across the rift was easy enough, certainly easier than Summer Ruby or the other Scions had anticipated. She had taken Urianger’s aether infused crystal and tasked Alisaie with the calling. The Elezen had opened his eyes after only a few minutes and grimaced.

“Thou needst not shout across the rift, my lady. I was listening for thy call.”

Thancred’s crystal was a more complicated thing, due to his inability to manipulate his own aether. They had minimally explained it to her before she had departed from the First--the crystal used Thancred’s blood in some sort of infusion. The process, Urianger said, was related to the creation of white auracite, but the result was more beacon and less binding. Through some sort of magic that Summer Ruby and Thancred didn’t understand, but Urianger had assured them was sound, the Exarch had converted Thancred’s reluctantly provided blood into its aetheric components, and imbued a crystal with the results. Simple enough, they were assured, but Summer Ruby had not been blind to the nervous look that crossed the Elezen’s face when he placed the crystal under the lifeless Scion’s palms. Krile had told Urianger to wait, rest a bit before undertaking the rather strenuous procedure, but he refused.

“I cannot,” was all he would say before closing his eyes and beginning.

To Summer Ruby, it felt like the process took a very long time. Longer even than Alphinaud had taken to stir. She wondered a bit at the delay, and worried that the transfer would not work properly for Thancred. But, it had to, she told herself, what had worked in one direction should certainly function just as well in reverse. She watched Alisaie fidget and pace in her peripheral vision.

And then, suddenly, the body on the bed jerked upright. Urianger nearly fell off the stool he had perched on, pale eyes wide as Thancred grabbed at his temples with a miserable noise.

“Ah, _fuck_!” Thancred groaned. “No one told me this came with a bloody migraine!”

“Better than being dead,” Alisaie said, crossing her arms. “And nobody else had that problem.”

“Guess I’m special.” Thancred was still for a moment, before lowering his hands and shifting his weight to look at the other man. Urianger was frowning down at him. Thancred rubbed at his eyes. “What is it?”

The Elezen hesitated, and then said: “Thou needst a haircut, mine swain.”

Thancred snorted in amusement. “S’that all? And here I was worried you’d had a change of heart.”

“Nay, neither mine heart nor mind hath changed from one world to the next.”

“Good.” He poked at Urianger’s chin. “I’ll get the haircut, but you have to promise not to put that popoto sack and goggles on again.”

Urianger blushed and stuttered in embarrassment as the other gathered Scions laughed.

“Come now, you two,” Krile said in as admonishing a tone as she could manage. “You need some rest. There will be time for prettying yourselves up later.”

By the time she emerged from the Rising Stones, her pack lighter for delivering the items she had brought from the First, the sun had begun to set and cast Mor Dhona into the warm colors of the sunset. Summer Ruby took in a lungful of fairly fresh air--the crystal formations always made the wind aether of the area taste slightly off--and exhaled slowly. She was glad to be out of the stagnation of the sick room. Thancred and Urianger were awake now, and the Scions needed no further assistance from her for the time being, and so she had quickly excused herself. This was of course despite the twins' protests to the contrary, and Tataru following her to the exit doors with a list of things that needed doing and a loud complaint that Summer Ruby used to be so much more reliable.

“I don’t owe you all anything,” she muttered under her breath. “If anything it’s the other way around.” She shouldered her travel pack and cast a look down the central street of the town. A figure caught her eye--tall and garbed in a heavy black cloak. They were looking at her, or at least, she assumed so behind the wooden mask hiding their face. Her gut immediately thought _Ascian_ , but the Scions had not mentioned any concerns that the servants of Zodiark had been giving them any trouble as of late. None were usually so bold as to stand out in the open and just gawk at the main entrance to the town’s drinking hole. None of them were so outlandishly tall, either. Summer Ruby looked around, but none of the adventurers and other travelers were paying her any attention beyond the fact that she was blocking the doorway. She adjusted her pack and slowly made her way over to the figure. Her skin prickled as she drew nearer, the figure’s aether hazing out beyond their body in greeting. She focused and butted the aether back with her own.

“Stalking me again, are we?” she said as she stopped near the figure. They tipped their head to look down at her, a playful hum coming from behind the mask. “Of course you are. Does really no one give you a hard time when you’re lurking about in that getup?”

A simple shake of the head. Then, softly: “People are surprisingly good at ignoring mysterious figures when they do not wish to call trouble upon themselves.”

She smiled at the delicate growl of Zenos’ voice. “I suppose that’s true. Then you get the troublemakers who can’t resist getting into the business of others.” Summer Ruby gestured at herself, and he chuckled. “So, what are you doing here, aside from the obvious?”

“I desired to see you,” he said. Then he gave his head a careful shake. “No, I wanted to spend time with you again. Did you have plans for the evening?”

“Back to Ishgard, like as much,” she said.

Zenos’ tone was careful. “Were they expecting your return already?”

“Ah, well--” She closed her mouth as a few young men with pickaxes slung on their shoulders ambled by. When they were gone, she continued. “No, I don’t suppose so. I told Aymeric I was going to the First, to aid the Scions. He knows my work does not come with a specific timetable.”

“Good.” Zenos turned up a pale palm, fingers curled in invitation. “Come with me, then.”

“What?” She was glad the encroaching night would hide the heat on her cheeks from any onlookers. “I can’t just go running off with you. I mean...” She half turned, looking back to the door of the bar. The Scions weren’t really expecting her to come back today, not after the dismissive exit she’d made with Tataru. “I thought I told you once a moon.”

“Perhaps you did. How many days has it been since last we saw each other?”

She did a quick mental tally. “Three days.”

“Oh.” He shrugged. “Close enough. Come with me.” The soft, entreating tone of his voice made further protests die on her lips. 

“Where do you want to go?”

“Somewhere private.” He offered his hand again. “Do not worry, I have a place in mind. A nice little change of scenery from my room in Gridania. Just you and I, no disruptions.”

Summer Ruby considered his outstretched hand. She knew, were she truly a good woman, a proper hero of the realm, that she would be offended by his offer, that she should go running back inside to the Scions to warn of the present danger. But, in this case, what the Scions were not privy to would likely not hurt them. She reached and gently pushed his hand down. “Tell me where to meet you.”

“I can take you there.”

“I’d rather you didn’t. Tell me the closest town where there might be an aetheryte, and I’ll meet back up with you on foot.”

The gentle azure glow of Mor Dhona’s aetheryte seemed to catch on the edges of his mask, and she thought for a moment that she could see a matching blue gleam in his eyes. “As you wish.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * _Yes I know who Cyella is. That's the joke._


	16. Come Away With Me

The aetheryte Zenos directed her to had become something of a distant memory, but Summer Ruby was still able to recall it well enough to teleport. Camp Overlook--it felt a lifetime ago that she had last been here. but in truth it had been, what, perhaps two years now? Things had not changed much, the camp was still naught more than an outpost staffed by Maelstrom soldiers who paid her little mind as she materialized. She had spent some time out here, aiding a hapless group of kobolds and eventually leading the Scions’ charge against the initial threat of the primal Titan. That all felt so distant now. She had not yet grown weary of her charge, not yet come to wish to be free of her blessings. Hells, she hadn’t even met Aymeric yet, back then.

The memories faded from the forefront of her mind as she set out on foot from the camp, following the sloping path west and then north. Zenos had given her moderately vague instructions on how to find where he would be waiting for her--west and then north until she reached the cliffs--but Summer Ruby remained confident that if she somehow failed to find him, he would come looking for her. Sometimes the hunt was not a grand and glamorous thing.

It was warm out today, and even with the sun setting the air was still thick and oppressive. She stopped after several minutes of walking to catch her breath and orientate herself. Overhead floated glowing orange and blue masses of crystal, many of them supporting broken chunks of earth with the occasional time ravaged piece of masonry. She wondered idly at the aetheric magic that must have lingered in those crystals, even more than a thousand years after their keepers had died out. The shadows grew longer, and she continued down the long sloping path. Eventually she had to keep her left hand to the rocky, moss coated wall, as the right side dropped off into a watery pass below.

The world had turned blue with the twilight by the time she reached the bottom. Here the path flattened out, and several torches lit the way. The way terminated at the feet of a small, simply constructed wooden building, surrounded by the glimmering green waters of a hot spring. And at the very end, standing with his back to her approach, was Zenos. He had discarded with the hooded cloak, and his long hair fluttered idly against his back in the weak evening breeze. She stopped, wanting to say something witty to get his attention, but could think of nothing. So she settled for calling his name.

Zenos turned. He wore a smile on his face, an easy thing that looked surprisingly natural. He uncrossed his arms and paced in her direction.

“You came,” he said.

Summer Ruby blinked. “Were you not expecting me to?”

The prince hesitated, smile faltering as his chin tucked toward the collar of his shirt. “I knew there was a possibility that you might change your mind and return to Ishgard instead.”

“Well... I’m here, Zenos.” She picked at the front of her tunic. “Though, I’m kind of glad that you aren’t the hugging sort, as it was quite a hike down here and I feel really sweaty and gross right now.”

“I’m sure I’ve dealt with worse,” he murmured, but lifted his face and gestured toward the side of the little hovel. “There is a smaller spring behind the building. It offers a bit more privacy, if you would like to clean up.”

“That sounds like a nice idea.” Zenos did not move as she started in the indicated direction. She looked over her shoulder. He was watching her, that funny little smile on his lips again. She cleared her throat. “So, uh, have you come here before? I didn’t even know there was a place like this out here.”

Summer Ruby could feel his eyes on her back as she set her gear down and removed her red coat. She heard his boots crunch on the rough ground. “A few times, yes. When I was first scouting out a base of operations for my hunt. This place is owned by... someone, but I’ve never seen them about. Whoever they are, they do not seem to mind the squatters.”

She sat on the edge of an old wooden crate and removed her boots, setting them neatly next to her pack. “Then, why stay in Gridania?”

“Gridania is a far more convenient location for traveling to and from Ishgard,” Zenos said.

“I suppose that’s true, ignoring the fact that you can just teleport through, what, the shadows?”

“Yes, the shadows, I believe. I try not to pay it too much mind.” He leaned against the exterior wall of the hovel. “Still, the act of transport does expend a fair amount of energy based off distance, so, the closer the better.”

Summer Ruby made a faint noise of acknowledgement. She stood at the stony edge of the spring, considering her options. Zenos’ gaze was heavy as a hand pressed to her back, and yet still light, tickling at the soft fur of her ears. She stepped into the warm water, tunic and trousers and smallclothes and all, and sat, flinching slightly as the motion caused a spray of displaced water to splash her cheeks. Zenos burst out into wheezing laughter, and she squeezed her eyes shut.

“Aesta, dear, you savages do know that you’re meant to undress _before_ bathing, don’t you?”

She crossed her arms over her chest, doing her best to enjoy the soothing warmth of the water. “Of course I know that.”

He wheezed: “I daresay you’ve fooled me.” His gasping breaths brushed against her ears as he loomed over her. “Are you trying to be modest? Now? After what we’ve shared?”

“I’m just giving my clothes a rinse off with the rest of me.”

“Ah. Yes, the fabled adventurer’s efficiency, is that it?”

She rolled her eyes. “There’s no such thing.”

Zenos loosened the buckles at the tops of his boots before pulling them off and dumping them unceremoniously behind them in the grass. She watched from the corner of her eye as he sat at the edge of the pool, just to her right side, and dipped his feet into the water.

After a few minutes of quiet she asked: “Well, what now? You’ve lured me out here, what were your plans?”

“No plans.” His voice was low and nearly swallowed by the night. “I just wanted to spend time with you. And the scenery here can be quite aesthetically impressive, so I thought you would enjoy the change of place.”

Now she tilted her head back to focus on his figure. His returning gaze was a near-interminable thing, he scarcely seemed to blink as he looked down at her. Zenos was relaxed, she realized, shoulders sloping lower than normal, a lazy smile on his lips, his head listing enough to the side to cause some of his golden hair to trail across his forehead.

“So you want to, what, just sit around and be bored with me for the night?”

“A night, perhaps two. Again: I have no plans.”

She cautiously voiced her concern: “Doesn’t boredom make you violent, Zenos?”

“Pointless, fruitless boredom, certainly.” His feet flexed in the fire lit water, briefly breaking the surface like two glossy white trout. “But, I think we can manage to not lapse into that sort of tedium.”

“Ah. Of course.” He just wanted to have sex again. That was to be expected. “So, Zenos, what do you do for recreation?” She had a difficult time imagining him doing anything for _fun_.

His left foot bumped against her calf. “Recreation? Oh, I don’t know. Training? A bit of reading. A nice nap.” A thoughtful noise hummed in his throat. “I did not have a great deal of free time for relaxation prior to my...grand exit.”

“And now?”

Another hum. “You know what I do now, Aesta.”

“Ah, yes. Your pursuit of me. Prowling about in the snow, following me like some bloodthirsty shadow...” She trailed off as she felt his heavy hand come to rest on the back of her skull, fingertips pressing between her ears. _He could shove you into the water and drown you_. But, he didn’t, instead flexing the fingers slightly and scratching his nails gently into her scalp.

“I have to keep an eye on you,” Zenos said. “To make sure you do not come to harm.”

“Zenos...” She trailed off, feeling drowsy. “Not so many weeks ago you tracked me to my front door, just so that you could fight me. What has changed?”

It took him a long time to reply. When he did, there was a forced levity to his tone. “Nothing has changed. I still wish to fight you.”

“Just, not to the death.”

A soft chuckle: “No longer to the death, no. Should it be to that, I am not certain that I would survive the encounter.” The scratching stopped, and he combed his fingers down through her hair. “You grew stronger in my absence, in a way I cannot yet fathom. We are no longer equals--you have surpassed me, somehow.”

Summer Ruby thought of the end of her time on the First, of taking Ardbert’s power as her own. “So, it’s more a matter of self preservation.”

His answer was evasive. “We’ve already spoken of this. I do not wish you dead. There is no pleasure in the kill, not really. It is just the conclusion to the hunt.” He leaned in toward her ears. “And, as I’ve said, I would prefer our dance to continue.”

She blushed and reached behind her, pushing at his face. “Yes, yes, I know.”

Zenos stood and stepped out of the water. “I’ll fetch you a towel.”

She nodded quietly at his departure, and looked up at the night sky. The black canvas with its spray of stars and wisps of clouds looked no different than it did in Ishgard. No different, truly, than it had on the First, once she had returned the sunless sea to the people. _They would have gladly let you die to see this sight_. A shiver worked its way through her body, and she sunk lower into the warm water. It did nothing to free her of the uncomfortable chill that wormed its way into her veins, and so she stood.

Summer Ruby was wringing the water from her trousers when Zenos returned with a towel.

“Done with your bath already?” He held the cloth against his chest. “I--I didn’t mean you had to get out now.”

“It’s alright,” she said. “There will be time for more tomorrow, yes?”

He swallowed and nodded. She could feel his gaze on her skin, watching as she wiggled out of her smallclothes and wrung the water from those as well. He was reticent as she found a place to drape her clothes out to dry overnight, and held out the towel when it was asked for.

“Do you have anything else to wear?” Zenos asked as she dried off.

“Of course,” she said. “I’m a proper adventurer, after all. Sometimes things get bloody, and you have to change your clothes.”

“Bloody?” He took the damp towel when she held it out to him.

“Certainly. Even if you use magic, things happen.” She opened her pack and opened the pocket that held her change of clothes. She was well aware of Zenos’ gaze following her hands as she retrieved a pair of underwear and slipped them up her legs. “You do all kinds of busy work for people, right? That’s part of adventuring. And sometimes they need five bear asses or toad livers. And those things don’t always cut out clean. Blood gets everywhere.”

“Must be a trouble to get clean. Metal armor is much easier in that aspect.”

She shook out a pair of blue linen trousers before pulling them on. “True, but you’ll find that women are already pretty good at getting blood out of things, even if they aren’t the adventuring sort.” She smirked at his confused expression. “Don’t worry about it.” After pulling on a plain gray tunic she picked up her pack and gestured at the front of the building. “Shall we go inside?”

Zenos draped the towel over a crate to dry. “Of course. This way.”

They rounded to the front of the building, where the door was cracked open. Zenos stooped when he pushed the front door open, as to avoid bumping his head on the low door frame. He held the door open for her, eyes on her face as she considered the interior of the building. It smelled of old wood and damp, and of books. The cause of the latter became evident when she spied the multitudes of tomes that filled the shelves lining the walls of the hovel. There was a desk in the corner of the room, littered with scrolls and a scale and other contraptions with which she was unfamiliar.

“Some sort of scholar’s hideaway?” she mused aloud. Zenos shrugged as he wiped his feet off on the entryway rug.

“As I said, I’ve never met the owner. They do seem to be of an intellectual persuasion.”

Summer Ruby smiled. “Well, at least if we get bored there will be plenty of reading material to choose from.”

“True.”

She noticed his katana in its scabbard, resting against one of the bookshelves, and set down her own rapier and its focus next to the other weapon. She placed her pack on the desk chair. Zenos quietly bolted the door behind them.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

“Hm? Oh, no, I’m good. Tataru insisted that I eat dinner earlier. Acted as though they don’t feed me enough in Ishgard and that I was wasting away.” She smiled and shook her head. “They mean well, of course.”

“The Lord Commander does seem to be keeping you well fed enough to keep your curves intact.”

“Is that so? I’ll have to let Aymeric know that you approve of at least one thing he does.”

Zenos moved closer, wrapping his arms around her middle and resting his chin behind her ears. “He cannot be a man entirely without merits. He did choose you, after all.”

She decided to accept that small victory and not press the subject. “So, where does the hermit sleep, I wonder?”

Zenos gestured over his shoulder. “Upstairs.” He released her and turned to face the opposite wall, and she pivoted to look. There was what looked like a small loft positioned over the entryway. She watched as Zenos paced over to the wall, considered the height, and then vaulted straight up, hands catching the edge of the floor and effortlessly hauling himself up and out of sight.

He leaned over the edge and held out a hand. “Join me?”

She laughed and shook her head. “I’ll take the ladder, thank you.”

Zenos shrugged and disappeared back into the loft. Summer Ruby considered the height, knowing that she could have easily made the jump herself, but still settled for climbing the old ladder that was bolted to the wall. Zenos was seated on the wooden floor, leaning against the bed frame and idly twisting a length of golden hair around his long fingers. The loft was somewhat cramped, home to yet another shelf full of books, a bed, several cabinets, and what looked to be a very elaborate astroscope. The man taking up most of the open floor space was the most pressing and interesting of the furniture. She sat, dangling her feet off the side of the loft.

“You could have gotten up here without the ladder,” Zenos observed. “You used to be a dragoon, yes? When we first met.”

“’When we first met.’” She snorted softly, but immediately hoped it did not sound too derisive. “You say that so casually, Zenos. As though we met in some romantic fashion, locking eyes in a market on a rainy afternoon. And, you know, not when you were in the middle of slaughtering my allies.”

His chuckle was laced with a nostalgic tone. “Oh, how right I was to spare you.” His leg flexed, making his foot tap against her hip. “You _were_ a dragoon, though. You had a lance. Ten fulms, birch and Ishgardian steel.”

Summer Ruby shifted her weight to look at him. “I--how would you even remember that?”

Zenos smirked. “I remembered.”

She thumped her heels against the wall. “Why did you spare me then, that night at the Reach? You could’ve easily finished me off. Could’ve easily killed every last man and woman at the outpost. Why... why didn’t you?”

“That’s been bothering you for, what, half a year or more now, has it?” Summer Ruby nodded. Zenos held out a hand. “Come here.”

She looked at the outstretched hand. _Oh, how quickly you have taken thine enemy as thy confidant._ She drew her legs up from the side of the loft and scooted to sit at Zenos’ side. His hand moved and hooked around her middle. He pulled her closer. Zenos adjusted his weight and rested the side of his head on her hair. The contact felt natural, comfortable, as though it were not some recent indulgence on her part. _Why does it feel so familiar?_ His left hand reached to lightly grasp at her closer wrist, and she felt the warmth of him--body and aether--seep into her skin.

“The attack on the Reach was just a warning,” Zenos said after a few minutes of holding her in quiet. “A show of strength to remind the savages of who and what they were playing at.”

“So, you were bored.”

His thumb traced an arc along the back of her hand. “Yes, perhaps that, as well. I _spared_ you because you entertained me. You were somehow powerful and yet weak in the same moment.”

“Ah, yes, your entertainment. Of course. Something to stave off that boredom that gnaws away at your insides, even now.”

“I’m not bored right now,” he said, tone corrective. “I’m comfortable.”

“That isn’t an emotion, Zenos.”

His left shoulder twitched in a shrug. “If I am to remember correctly, you were still a dragoon the second time we crossed paths. Misguided assassination attempt in the rain, was it not?” He murmured more to himself in a thoughtful voice. “But then, the next time I saw you in combat you had taken up the mage’s sword. And that is primarily what you have faced me as since that day.”

She did not know why he was so hung up on her being a dragoon, but decided to humor him for the moment. “I was, yes. Though I think that was the night I put up my lance for good.” She sighed. “I had to stop. I don’t know if it was because of my size, but the jumps were hell on my joints. And after I had Merle I never... never felt back up to speed. I knew I would have to try something new if I were going to survive against you.”

“A pity. I was hoping to see you use it again sometime.” Zenos lifted his head from hers and lowered his face to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Perhaps I can convince you otherwise.”

“Perhaps.” She brushed her fingers through the silky hair that framed his face. “Tell me: Did I do it? Did I give you something to remember that night?”

“Mm?” His thoughtful noise fluttered against her skin. “Considering the actions I took afterwards, I would certainly say so. I would not have been driven to such obsession with you had you not been competent enough to leave a mark on me.” He nuzzled at her jaw. “I do not know what caused that fascination to be reforged into infatuation. But I... I do not regret it transpiring.”

“Is that what it is now, Zenos? Infatuation?”

Zenos grunted lowly. “I am not incredibly experienced in what my father would have called ‘normal, proper emotional functions’ for a young man, but, yes. I believe that by the time you followed me to that roof, I had indeed become infatuated with you. But, I couldn’t--” He stopped, long fingers twitching in some old frustration.

She thought of him, frantic and panting in front of the Ala Mhigan throne. Of his impassioned monologue on the rooftop. He had been trying to tell her something, but all that would come out was his desperate need to fight. It was all he really knew, his only source of comfort. “I know. Your hunt superseded all else.”

He nodded. “You made me so very happy that day. Such joy as I did not know a man could feel.”

“I just wish...” She tried to banish the bloody memory from her mind and shook her head. “It did not have to end in such violence.”

“Oh, but it did, Aesta, it _had to_. There was no other way that chapter could have ended. Not for me, and not for you.”

Summer Ruby swallowed against the encroaching tightness in her throat. “So, I _had_ to watch you die? I had to watch--I had to _watch_ \--” She squeezed her eyes shut.

“Yes.”

“ _Why_?”

“I needed that moment remembered for what it was. Because I knew you would not sully my moment of glory, my joy. You would not honor the fallacy that was their singing and festivities.” Zenos’ voice grew soft, nearly a whisper. “Because, you were my friend.”

When she reopened her eyes, she found that he was staring at her, close enough to kiss. “I did not participate in the revelry any more than I absolutely had to. They sang, they fucking _sang_ out their victory, and you were still growing cold in the flowers. I couldn’t--” She swallowed hard, throat aching. “I couldn’t even say goodbye to you.”

“You wished to?”

“I did.” Summer Ruby forced a meager smile to her face. “I mean, isn’t that what friends do?”

“My friend. Oh, my _friend!”_ He roughly planted a kiss to her forehead before burying his face in the curve of her neck. He whispered: “I am sorry. Summer Ruby, please, forgive me. Please, hold onto that pain no longer, not for me. I am here now.”

He did not weep, but she could still feel the prickle of his aether as it draped along her arms and shoulders.

 _This is the man who wanted to kill you, who hunted you down like an animal, and yet you would still forgive him_?

No, that was not the same man. That man had died in front of her, half a year ago.

 _He will still kill you if you give him the chance_.

No, Zenos would not kill her. She believed him when he said that he no longer wished to kill her.

_He is still a monster._

And so was she. It was because of this that she knew that no child, no man became a monster overnight, and without outside influence. She had ever held a helpless need to aid those hopeless causes. That was how she had ended up where she was now. It was because of this that she knew that monsters could still do good, even in a broken world such as theirs. She knew, could feel it in the responding hum of her own aether, that pulling Zenos yae Galvus out of the coldness he had been raised into was not a bad thing. It was a necessary thing. He did not need any more enemies.

She listened to the uneven pace of his breathing, and knew that he needed her.

“I’m here, too.”

He was quiet, but his breath still tickled against her skin. She remained quiet as well for a few minutes more, letting her mind settle in its decision.

“Zenos, I--” Summer Ruby swallowed.

“Yes, Aesta?”

She pulled away, fingers feathering down the sides of his face. “Zenos, I no longer wish to be your enemy, either.”

“You--” He stared at her, lips moving as though repeating her words to himself. He rumbled: “Truthfully?”

“Aye, truthfully.”

Zenos’ face lit up with a smile. It was not a manic, wide-eyed thing, but an image of youthful delight that Summer Ruby had not thought his face capable of making. He lurched forward, as though to grab her for a kiss, but instead his arms wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her tight, and buried his face in her hair. She let out a grunt of discomfort as the bed frame dug into her back, and he ungracefully flopped onto the floorboards and held her atop him. After several minutes of silence he let out a loud, gasping breath. She reached for his face, touching his cheeks, but still found them dry.

She whispered: “Be my friend, Zenos.”

“Of course,” he choked out. “Forever.”


	17. This Fragile Thing (1/2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to the length of this chapter, I split it into two parts.

In the grey light of morning, Summer Ruby woke and wondered why she had slept on the floor and not the comfortable looking bed that was quite literally close enough for her to reach out and touch. The answer was just as close as the unused bed. Zenos was still asleep next to her, half curled on his side, a sweet look of slumber on his face. She realized that she’d slept using his forearm as a pillow. Beyond that contact, as before in Gridania, he had not been touching her while they slept. It was a strange delicacy on his part, and she did not know if the disconnect was intentional or something borne from years of emotional detachment. There was a faint twitch of moment beneath his eyelids, and she wondered what filled his quiet dreams. She pressed her lips to the soft skin below his third eye, and then carefully made her way down to the ground floor. She undressed, draping her clothing over her pack, and then stepped outside.

The morning air was warm and muggy, made moreso by the proximity of the springs. She found the towel that Zenos had left out to dry the night before, and rolled it into an approximation of a cushion for her neck. A quick check confirmed that the rest of her clothing was still present, mostly dry. Summer Ruby made her way to the pool that faced the valley below, and got herself situated in the warm waters. The springs were warm without being too scaldingly hot, as was manytimes the case when she took a bath at home in Ishgard. She closed her eyes, letting the warmth soak into her flesh. She could not relax completely, not really, but she did her best. Her ears, too sensitive now, refused to stop listening to her surroundings--the songs of the birds hidden in the trees, the steady, muted patter of the little waterfall that flowed from an above rockface and into one of the heated pools, the distant lowing of the coeurls that occupied the nearby ruins...

A soft thump inside the building. The door to the hovel creaking open. The sound of Zenos’ voice, a bit sleepy and teasing at the same time, swiftly following.

“Time for another soak already?”

“The floor is awful for sleeping on,” she said. “I’m sore.” She cracked her eyes open at the sound of a chuckle and peered to the doorway. Zenos had begun to slowly disrobe.

“And here I thought the Warrior of Light was used to  _ roughing it _ while out in the wilds on her adventures.”

“Used to it? Certainly. I never said I enjoyed it.”

“Ah. Well, I will be more careful to make certain you go to sleep in bed tonight, should you deign to spend another night in my company.”

“We’ll see.” She let her eyes linger on his well-muscled thighs, idly recalling what it felt like to grip those thick muscles while riding in his lap. She smirked and closed her eyes again. “There’s plenty of warm water. Feel free to join me.”

She heard him grunt softly, followed by a series of pops. Curious, she cracked her right eye open. Zenos had his arms stretched over his head, fingertips reaching skyward, as though daring the gods to strike him down. He was all pale polished skin and muscle, more a statue than a man. All that ruined the image was the golden standard of his tousled hair, not that she minded so much.

Zenos dropped his hands back to his sides and exhaled quietly. He turned and continued into the water. “I always have enjoyed a nice warm soak after clanking about in my armor all day.”

The mental image of Zenos soaking in some palatial tub brought a smile to her face, if only because it did not strike her as outlandish at all. “I’m afraid we lack in oils and flower petals here to make it a proper cleansing for my lord.” Zenos chuckled as he sat, not quite next to her, but close enough that he could bump his left heel against her right.

“It was more a luxury I enjoyed while serving as the viceroy in Ala Mhigo,” he said. “The best quality oils were unfortunately more challenging to get smuggled out of the savage lands and into Garlemald. Moreso after my great-grandsire passed, as he was at least a bit willing to look the other way.”

“One thing to thank the Ascian for?”

“I suppose so. He didn’t like most of it grown in the hothouses. Too decadent. I think he was humoring me with the imports to irritate my father.” Zenos flicked at the water. “So there was lavender and marjoram from the western coast. Chamomile from a location in Vylbrand. Some rather expensive selections of rosemary from the dark forests near Gridania...” He trailed off, fingertips tracing some unknown pattern on the surface of the water. Summer Ruby considered the ingredients he had rattled off. She had seen many of them for sale at the stalls in the Crozier, and knew that Aymeric kept most of them in stock at home as well.

“Were you in pain?” she wondered, recalling the reason why most of those herbs were kept by her husband. Zenos was quick to give a dismissive snort.

“No, of course not.” He turned his face away. “They just helped me relax.”

“I see. Of course.” She leaned against the rolled up town and looked out to the north, where the ground ended and opened into the sky. The view was lovely, if one enjoyed the sight of the heavens resting upon the peaks of distant mountains, and the quiet burning of the island’s volcano. “Sometimes it’s nice to just relax. But, it--this feels like an indulgence that I haven’t earned.”

“Must every indulgence be earned?” Zenos echoed slowly. “Must every moment of pleasure have a cost?”

“Everything has a cost that must be repaid.”

“Then let this be a moment stolen,” he said. His eyes gleamed in the morning light. “Unless you are worried about what the cost will be. I wonder, how will your husband react to finding out about these private ventures of ours?” Zenos sounded amused as he continued on to himself. “What happens when a good man is wronged?”

She frowned and looked at him, still dangerous in his idleness. “I chose to be here, Zenos.”

“As did I.” The prince sat up and shifted his weight closer, leaning to look into her face. “Lest you try to forget: we have an agreement. I asked you here, knowing full well that secrets are impossible to keep in court. Knowing that, should the Lord Commander seek vengeance against me, I will not be able to keep him from striking me down without breaking my word to you.” He reached and twined his fingers in a lock of damp red hair. “And that should he seek some retribution against you, I would not be able to protect you.”

“Zenos...” She shook her head. “I do not need you, or anyone else, to fight my battles. Besides, I am quite certain that Aymeric would never move to hurt me, no matter how angry he might become.”

He did not move. “Are you certain? Have you ever seen him truly angry? How often does he let you see that dark part of himself?”

It was a struggle to imagine her beautiful husband being truly, deeply angry. Irritated, certainly, he dragged back to the Borel manor in some state of vexation a few nights a week, but true anger from the man was a rarity. Did it not exist, she wondered, or was he simply extremely talented at quashing the emotion down and out of sight? And what of the man looming nearby, his face only ilms from hers? She could think of a variety of negative emotions that she had seen on his face--boredom, disappointment, varying amounts of contempt--but could only place a true burning, barely restrained fury in his eyes from the time she had faced Elidibus on the battlefield.

So she asked: “How often do you get angry, Zenos?”

“I do not,” he said plainly. “My expectations of the world are far too limited for the failures of others to do more than disappoint me.”

“Must be nice,” Summer Ruby said, more a murmur to herself. “I get angry all the time.”

Zenos stooped and nuzzled at the base of her ear. “Yes, and that is why you are my wild little beast. You have that fire burning in your veins.”

She squeaked as his lips feathered against her ear. “Ah, don’t, I told you--”

He chuckled. “Your weakness is beautiful, Aesta.” Now he swooped in on her, pressing his lips to hers in what was not quite a kiss. He murmured into her mouth. “I want to bury myself in that softness and sentiment, let it fill my lungs until naught more remains to breathe but your and your beauty.”

She laughed softly, overcome by his half-crazed declaration. “Zenos, what’s come over you?”

He let out a low growl as he kissed at her jaw. “Just the heat, I’m certain. Or that curtain of your essence that you drape over me whenever I get too close.”

“My ess--you mean my aether? I’m not doing anything of the sort, Zenos.”

“Ah, but you are,” he said, lips hot against her warm skin. “Your soul sings to mine, can you not hear it?”

All that she could hear now was the soft, eager huff of his breath and the pounding of her heart in her ears. “I think you need to calm down.”

“Calm me down, then, Aesta.”

Summer Ruby sat up, moving her towel away from the water’s edge. She looked at Zenos, at his eyes dark despite the brightness of the morning. Even as she moved away, his body subtly strained after hers. She thought of the previous night’s conversation on the floor. 

“Am I really worth it, to suffer so much?”

“Yes,” he said, without hesitation.

“Why?”

“I can’t--I don’t know if I can tell you that yet, Aesta. I scarcely understand this myself.”

She pressed her palms to his shoulders, guiding him back into the water. He let out a faint, pleased huff as she straddled his lower thighs. “Tell me, Zenos. What do you think it is that you’re feeling?”

“I--” His fingertips fumbled over the slick surface of her skin. His brows drew together, and for a long moment he looked past her, over her shoulder and into the distance. Once he had gathered his thoughts, Zenos looked to her face once more. “There are times when I feel as though I will go mad if I am not near you. And when I have you near, it is just as maddening.”

His muscles were taut under her touch. She considered his so-called symptoms and smiled. “Were you any other man, I would say you were naught but a fool in love.” He grimaced. “But, since it’s you, I’m just going to say that it’s lust. Your body is just aching for a different sort of battle. You yearn for me to satisfy you on the battlefield, and in the bedroom.” She squeezed his thighs between her own. “That  _ is _ why you asked me to come out here with you rather than going home to Ishgard, isn’t it?” She released her grip on his shoulders and slid her fingertips covetously over his chest. “You are not one for idle conversations with savages.”

He caught her hands in his own just before they reached the water, slotting their fingers together before guiding them down the remainder of his abdomen. He pressed her palms to his member, already swollen in the warm water.

“You’re my exception,” he purred. “You’re my favorite savage.”

She chuckled, letting him guide her fingers as they curled around his length. “You’re just saying that because my hands are on your dick.”

“Not at all.”

She gave him a light squeeze, and smirked at the low groan that escaped him. 

He kept his hands pressed to hers, asking nothing of her but her touch as his hips rolled in the water. His eyelids slid half closed, but remained open enough so that his adoring gaze did not lose its focus on her face. She pressed her thumb to the underside of his shaft, smiling as he struggled to maintain his composure.

“Ahh--Aesta!”

She continued to squeeze into his upward thrusts and teased: “You started this battle, my friend.”

He could only cry out in raw bliss at her words. When he came, his voice broke off into nothingness, and his hands clenched around hers. His cock pulsed and twitched against her palms. His grip on her slackened as his peak passed, and she used the opportunity to free her right hand and stroke his flushed cheek. Zenos murmured something, breathless but affectionate, and further pressed his cheek into her palm.

“You alright?” she asked, watching his chest heave in steady gasps. His eyelashes fluttered, but he nodded.

“Good.” Zenos managed before sinking against the side of the pool. “Very good.”

Summer Ruby carefully slipped from his knees and moved to perch on the rocks at his side. He butted his head against her ankle, and with a soft laugh she slipped her fingers through his hair. 

“I like you, Aesta,” Zenos mumbled drowsily. “You’re not a tiny little doll like the girls at the pleasure houses.”

She rolled her eyes and snorted in amusement at his peculiar observation. “You’ve just noticed that now, Zenos?”

He hummed softly and shook his head. “I liked it before, too. A woman who wouldn’t break under my touch, who could nearly look me in the eye...” He trailed off, eyes slipping closed. She smiled and kissed his forehead, lingering for a moment on the smooth, warm keratin of his third eye.

“Take a break, big guy. I won’t be far.”

Summer Ruby redressed in the previous day’s gear. She could hear a faint hum coming from the direction of the pools, but when she returned to where Zenos was still lounging he had gone silent, eyes closed. She quietly moved to the edge of the bluff. The ground moved down and away in uneven steps and suddenly drops, down into a fog shrouded valley far below. Now and then, when the clouds thinned momentarily, she thought she saw the glimmer of a river in the morning sun, but it was swallowed up again as quickly as it showed. Far across the valley rose other mountains and the island’s volcano. She could not think of its name, and decided that it did not matter. Were it suddenly to erupt, she would probably have enough time to teleport away to safety. Probably.

She carefully climbed down to the first ledge. The new vantage point did not offer her any better views, but she sat and relaxed all the same. The view of the valley was nice enough. It reminded her of being home in Ishgard and staring out at the Sea of Clouds, just warmer. Summer Ruby drew her knees up to her chest and wondered what her husband was doing. This time of the morning, Aymeric was most likely already at the Congregation, going over the previous night’s reports and conferring with Lucia and Handeloup over any changes that needed to be made to their patrol schedules. Then he would have a meeting later in the morning with one of the Houses. She quietly hoped he would have time to think of her.

_ How can you possibly find it in yourself to hope that your poor, dear husband is thinking about you, when you have run off into the wilds with another man? _

After everything she had been through, she thought perhaps she deserved a bit of selfishness. Just a little.

She dozed off, returning to her senses with her forehead on her knees when a voice echoed out from above.

“Aesta?” She heard Zenos’ voice call with some small tentativeness. She shifted her weight to look up.

She called to him: “I’m down here!”

His stoic face peered over the rock ledge. “Are you unharmed?”

Summer Ruby got to her feet and brushed the dirt off her backside. “I’m fine! I just decided to explore a little, that’s all.” 

“By climbing down the side of a cliff.” He frowned. “Are you trying to flee from me?”

She snorted. “If I was trying to get away from you, I could just teleport to literally anywhere else in Eorzea.”

“The aetheryte network,” Zenos murmured, as though he had forgotten about the thing. It was possible he had, considering his origins. “Do you need help back up?”

She was certain she could safely scale the rock back up to where she had started. It was a short distance. She still said: “I would accept some assistance, if it were being offered.”

“It is.”

She got to her feet and held up her hands. His own big hands reached down, clasping her arms near her elbows. Her hands fumbled and gripped at his forearms as he started to move. In a movement that was swift and effortless in her perception, Zenos hauled her up and over the ledge. He took a few careful steps backwards, stopping only when his bare heels touched the rock lining the edge of the pools. He released his grip on her elbows but not her person, instead wrapping his strong arms around her and pulling her close. She leaned against him, into him, heart hammering in her chest.

“I won’t drop you,” he murmured. She blinked--the possibility that the prince might have instead thrown her from the cliffs had not even entered her mind in the moment.

“I know you won’t,” she said. “Thank you.” She kissed his chin.

“I made breakfast.” Zenos made an uncertain noise and looked to the door. “Well, I tried. I do not have much cooking experience, but I do know how to cook porridge and toast bread.”

Summer Ruby smiled, pleased at his initiative. “Considering how many mornings I’ve woken to no food at all, I won’t complain about some simple grub.”

He blinked, surprise registering in his pale eyes. “You’ve gone hungry?”

“When out doing busy work for someone? Certainly. Sometimes I didn’t think to bring extra food in case the fighting ran long. Sometimes I was out in the middle of absolute nowhere.” She shifted her weight toward the door. Zenos was slow to release her from his arms, but she did not mind. For the moment, she felt secure there. “I got better, and learned from my mistakes.”

“Perhaps later I can scout around, see if there’s anything worth hunting for meat,” suggested Zenos. At Summer Ruby’s little nod of agreement, his expression softened into a smile, and he unwrapped his arms. “Well, then, breakfast is waiting. We should not let it get cold.”

They ate the simple breakfast that Zenos had prepared, seated side by side on the floor rug and sharing a bottle of warm wine. She supposed that, were someone who knew their stations in life were to look in on the scene, they would wonder at the humble takings of the crown prince of the Garlean empire and the Warrior of Light. Summer Ruby did not mind, though. It was a filling enough meal, and the company was politely quiet.

Afterwards, Zenos washed the bowls out and then spent a few minutes rummaging around in the satchel he had brought.

“I could go along with you,” she said. “I mean, I came all the way out here to be with you, right?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Unless you need a break from me already.”

He tilted his head back to look at her, eyes widening slightly as though he had forgotten she was there. “Oh. No, I have not grown weary of your presence. Quite the contrary, I could say.” Zenos smoothly returned to his feet. “I was merely checking to see if I had a proper knife for preparing a kill, should I--we--make one.”

“I have one,” she said. He looked at her for a moment too long, before a chuckle escaped him.

“Ah, of course you do, my little wild rabbit.” Zenos picked up his katana and belted it at his hip. “It would be my honor, oh venerated Warrior of Light, were you to accompany me on my hunt.”

“I’m going to view this as more sight-seeing and less the pointless slaughter of too much of the local wildlife.”

“Supper is far from pointless, Aesta,” he said. “Shall we?”

She picked up her rapier. “Lead the way.”

Together they made their way back up the unforgiving path she had descended the evening before. In the daylight, it was just as much a tangled mess of greenery and broken ground, accented overhead by the strange floating crystals. The humidity of the early hours faded, but the heat lingered. Now and then, Summer Ruby found herself watching Zenos more than the scenery. He had pulled his hair back into a loose braid before their departure, and when he stooped to inspect tracks in the dirt she could see the faint sheen of sweat on the back of his neck, trapped between his hairline and his collar.

“It’s always rather warm out here,” she said.

He glanced up at her. “Yes, that does seem to be the case. I must say, that is one of the few things I find tolerable about Ishgard.”

“What, the cold?”

Zenos nodded as he prodded at a broad indentation in the path. “Yes. The cold climate of Garlemald is where I was born and raised, after all. Ishgard is not quite so inclement in its weather, but close enough for comfort.”

“The cold doesn’t bother me that much,” she said. “Nor does the heat, when it’s dry.”

“Ah, yes. Let me see.” He squinted at her. “You were a Hellsguard, correct?” Zenos gestured broadly back to the north. “The volcano here should make you feel right at home.”

“In a small fashion.”

“Strange that your internal fire should linger even after your form has been altered.”

“There’s a lot about me that’s strange, Zenos.” She smiled. “Right up to the company I keep.”

“I shall take that as a compliment, coming from you.” Zenos dusted his fingers off against his hip, and then shielded his eyes as he looked at the formations overhead. He remained this way for several minutes, a frown slowly pulling at the corners of his mouth. Curious, Summer Ruby looked up, but all she could see was the floating ruins and the open blue sky.

“Zenos? Is something wrong?” She strained her ears, but did not hear anything out of place with the location. “Zenos?” She touched his shoulder, and the man jerked bodily and stepped away.

“I--oh.” He swallowed hard. “My apologies, I just…” His pale eyes flicked upwards briefly before refocusing on the uneven ground at their feet. “I just feel a touch ill.”

Summer Ruby had a difficult time imagining her indomitable companion with a cold, or any other sort of more serious illness. She considered the floating crystals. Despite his enhanced state of being, Zenos was still a Garlean… “Aether sickness?”

He shook his head. “No, no. There is merely something about those floating rocks that puts me ill at ease.”

She tried to recall what she had learned of the area years before. “They’re ruins. Of the ancient city of Nym. I don’t know how much they teach about Nym and the War of the Magi and all of that back in the Empire.” She looked at Zenos, who shrugged and shook his head again.

“A trivial amount in regards to the magic users. More about the actual War.”

“Ah, well, then you know about how things were disrupted by the last Calamity.” She waved her hand. “I mean, not the one the Empire just caused. The one fifteen-hundred or so years ago. The one that flooded the star.”

“Vaguely.” Zenos frowned. “I am not afraid of swimming, though. So I do not understand why this could cause me unease.”

Summer Ruby managed not to laugh at his simplistic statement. “I don’t know, either. And I don’t really know a great deal, myself. Just a few details I picked up when I worked out here before. And that was usually just whatever horrible details the guards at Camp Overlook could tell me. Nym was overtaken by a plague that turned the citizens into little green creatures. Tonberries, we call them today.”

His nose wrinkled. “Distasteful.”

She smiled at him. “Not all monsters are beautiful like you, Zenos.” She caught her lower lip between her teeth. “I mean--no, you’re definitely beautiful. No sense in denying that.” Though, she thought, there were certainly plenty of people who would think the prince the more distasteful option when compared to a tonberry.

Their loss.

Zenos tipped his head back to study the floating crystals once more. “I do not understand why, but looking at this causes me unease. As though I have done something wrong here.”

“I mean, you’re here with me.” There were definitely those who would think that was a misdeed on his part. 

Zenos grunted softly, his gaze lingering on the floating ruins overhead. After a few minutes of silence, he said: “Tell me about your husband.”

She blinked and looked at him. “What?”

He lowered his gaze to the ground and leaned against a crumbling stone wall. She thought he still looked a bit unsteady. “I need to distract my mind from the ruins. Help me. Tell me about your husband.”

Summer Ruby sighed. “You could have picked literally any other subject.”

His eyes slid half-closed, and his broad shoulders jerked in a shrug. “I know the basics of the man. The last intelligence reports I read in the Empire referred to Aymeric de Borel somewhat sarcastically as the ‘king of the frozen wasteland’. I suppose it is fitting a man such as he should go for the absolute best woman available.”

She felt her cheeks warm at his sideways compliment. “Not a king, no. But he’s the Lord Speaker of the House of Lords, and the Lord Commander of the Temple Knights. He’s very busy splitting his time between the two. He never gets a day off, unless he takes one for himself, and short of me physically restraining him in bed with my thighs, it can be nearly impossible to convince him to do so. He didn’t even really want the Lord Speaker position, but his peers begged it upon him, and he did not have the heart to turn his back to them, to Ishgard.”

“If he is that busy, how does he find any time to spend with you?”

Summer Ruby looked at her hands. “To be honest, most of the time he can’t. No more than I can find time for him during the times I am dragged away from Ishgard to deal with whatever Eorzea’s current problem is.”

“Would you rather be in Ishgard with him right now, rather than here with me?”

She looked at Zenos. He was not looking at her--his eyes were fixed somewhere in the rocky crags below. “Are you joking? If I knew that Aymeric was sitting at home, wondering when I would return, then yes, in an instant. But, I know this week that he’s busy caught up mediating between the House of Lords and House of Commons on budget issues, and that is work enough assuming nothing extra demands his attention from the Congregation. So, I know that he is not home right now.” She shook her head. “There is no sense in viewing him as your enemy, Zenos, though he will still view you as such.”

“He barely registers as a concern to me,” said Zenos. “But for your attachment to him. Despite his lofty positions, the man is completely inferior to you. He does not deserve what you have given him.”

She frowned. Part of her wished that the men could chance to know each other better. To think so poorly upon someone they barely even knew... She shook her head, and bumped her shoulder into his arm.

“He is a good and noble man, and quite frankly I do not deserve him.”

The prince gave a soft, disbelieving grunt. “Then, why did you marry him?”

“Because, he asked me.”

“That simple?”

“Only superficially so.” She shook her head, thinking of the  _ why _ behind Aymeric’s proposal. “Nothing is really that simple.”

“Is that why you keep your marriage a secret?”

She swallowed. “Truthfully? Though I consider Ishgard to be my home, there are still a great number of members of the noble Houses and beyond that do not appreciate my presence in Ishgard. They would rather I were somewhere else, as naught but upheaval followed my arrival. They had been comfortable fighting a pointless, sacrificial war for a thousand years, and would have preferred it continued until Ishgard was little more than a vast, frozen graveyard.”

“A heavy condemnation for the vaunted Warrior of Light.” Only now did he look to her again, his expression impossible to decode.

She chuckled softly. “It doesn’t get me a free pass everywhere. A fair amount of leeway, certainly, but there are plenty of places where I still have to bust my ass in order to be viewed as anything more than a brute with a sword.”

“Perhaps you should have tried Garlemald after all,” Zenos said, wry. “They’re very big on brutes with swords.” He leaning in for a moment, nuzzling briefly between her ears, and then flopped back against the broken wall.

“Very funny.”

“Tell me. Do you and the Lord Commander ever spar?”

Summer Ruby shook her head. “No. I believe he fears I would hurt him.” She considered her own words. “He is not wrong to assume so.”

Zenos reached and took her right hand between his own. He pressed his thumb into the flesh below her wrist, lightly, until he found the right spot on the tendons to cause her fingers to curl shut. “How does he stand it, I wonder. How does a simple man like him endure knowing that his beloved could so easily break him and cast him aside.”

“I don’t know.” She shook her head. “Perhaps it’s no different from worrying if the weather will turn foul and kill you, or a tree might fall on your head while walking through the woods, or a wild beast might catch you off-guard and rip you apart.” She paused at the amused smirk that sprang to Zeno’s lips. “Well, you know what I mean. In a hypothetical sense.”

“So the Lord Commander does not fret over the hypothetical situation of being forced to face you in combat.”

“Right. We’re allies, so we have no reason to physically fight. And even when we do argue, he…” Summer Ruby trailed off, thinking of she and Aymeric’s various disagreements. They were usually very short. “Ah. He usually lets me have the upper hand and concedes to my point.” She snorted, flexing her fingers. “I’m not sure if that’s cowardice or just tactfulness. Could be both.”

“You would rather he always let you win without a fight, rather than he ever try to prove his point?”

“I usually agree with his point, so it does not get that far. It’s more when it’s the other way around, when he doesn’t agree with my own line of thinking.” She sighed. “We come from two very different backgrounds, so that does happen.”

“Do you ever wish to fight him?”

“In combat? No, not really.” She smiled at Zenos. “It is as has been said: it would not be a fair fight.”

Zenos’ eyes squinted happily as he leaned toward her. “You have me for that sort of business.”

Summer Ruby chuckled and shook her head. “Yes, I suppose that I do.” 


	18. This Fragile Thing (2/2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second half of Chapter 17 (This Fragile Thing), so if you haven't read that yet, be sure do to do so before reading this one!

They continued along the path. The morning was quiet, and they passed only the occasional chittering ringtail monkey. Eventually they happened upon a mother coeurl and her two cubs. The mother was sprawled out in the morning sun, ignoring the cubs as they tumbled over and around her and tried to tangle themselves in her long whiskers.

“Oh, I don’t want to eat a coeurl,” Summer Ruby said in a low voice as Zenos’ hand went to his sword. “They remind me of you. Big, golden, a bit bitey… prone to naps.”

He looked down at her, brows arched. “And here I thought you were going to comment on their hunting prowess.”

“Well. That goes without saying, right?” She shook her head. “There’s usually plenty of raptors and birds closer to the main road. They’ll probably make for better eating.”

Zenos looked to the big cats again for a moment before nodding. “We don’t need that much meat.”

The coeurls paid them no mind as they passed by along the path.

When they neared the peak of the slope, Summer Ruby became aware of the sound of another pair of footsteps. She cursed under her breath and grabbed Zenos by the shoulder. He sputtered softly in protest as she dragged him behind an ancient, broken wall.

“What--” The protest died on his lips as the sound of footsteps grew louder.

“Shh, be quiet. No one needs to know we’re here.” Summer Ruby peered around the edge of the wall. The approaching figure was a lone man, recognizable by his brown coat and red bandana as one of the soldiers from Camp Overlook. Just a morning patrol, she thought, judging the man’s bored expression and the way he paid more attention to the ground at his boots than his surroundings. Zenos’ weight pressed against her as he leaned to look, and she felt his muscles tense.

A murderous fire gleamed in Zenos’ eyes as he watched the guard pick their way down the path. He growled: “I will cut them down should they come too close.”

She hissed back at him. “You will do no such thing, he’s just on a patrol-just doing his job.”

“We are not in Ishgard. You have no sway over me here.”

Summer Ruby cursed under her breath as the sound of the guard’s footsteps drew nearer. She could feel the tension in Zenos’ body, the powerful muscles priming and ready to strike the unsuspecting guard down dead. She could not let her grip on him slip, could not let him go, because if that happened the guard would be dead before she could try to chase Zenos down.

She knew Zenos could not help himself, but cursed his callous, violent nature all the same.

“Just stop, calm down!” She lurched against him, grabbing his chin in her hand and pressing their lips together. Zenos let out a noise of protest, his teeth scraping at her lip, and left hand gripping at her shoulder with bruising force. She persisted, refusing to surrender her point.

It felt like a whole day passed like that, the sound of boots in her ears and the feeling of his body trembling against hers. Then there was a faint click--the sound of steel relaxing back against its casing--and Zenos’ right hand moved to grab tightly at her bottom. She gasped into his mouth.

The guard had stopped only a few yalms from where they stood. She strained to hear the man, even as Zenos’ breath rattled dangerously in his throat and his lips remained pressed in a defiant grimace against hers. Then, finally, she heard the scuff of the boots changing direction. She did not dare to move until the sound of the guard’s pace had faded from her sensitive hearing. Only then did she release her tight grip on Zenos’ chin. He coughed in protest as she shoved at his nose and eyes with her hand.

“You did that on purpose,” he growled.

“Of course I did.”

“Why? Why not let me kill the man? It wouldn’t have mattered.” He frowned down at her.

“It would have mattered to someone,” she said. “No, nobody you or I know or care about, but that doesn’t matter. Someone cares about that guard, and that’s reason enough to spare him if he’s not guilty of any harm to us.”

Zenos scoffed softly and pressed his nose into the crook of her neck. “How heroic of you.”

“An unfortunate habit of mine, yes.” She smiled wearily and stroked her hand through his smooth hair. “Come on. Back to camp. There’s no sense in letting the whole afternoon be spoiled.”

The tension ebbed from his body as he pressed himself into her touch. “As you would wish.”

Summer Ruby checked to make certain that their path was indeed clear, and then offered Zenos her hand. “It’s okay now.”

He took her hand and gave it a squeeze before releasing it again. “We still need to find something to eat.”

They ventured closer to the main road, despite Summer Ruby’s concerns that another guard or random passerby might stoke her companion’s ire. Fortunately they went undisturbed, and Zenos was free to take out his frustrations on a young raptor that she disabled with a quick verstone to the back of its head. He carved off the beast’s hind legs, letting the blood drain out before tossing the remainder to waiting scavengers.

Neither spoke as they made their way back to camp. However tense the silence was, Summer Ruby was glad for it. She did not know what to say to Zenos about his reaction to the guard. She wanted to believe that there was more to him than just an instinctual violent reaction. But she did not know, and so she said nothing.

She did not know what Zenos’ silence meant.

Her lower lip was sore, and she pressed a healing spell to it while they sat and watched the raptor legs cook. On the other side of the firepit, Zenos sat with his katana in hand, silently drawing a cleaning cloth down the length of the blade.

He seemed to sense her gaze on him, because he said: “Have you ever used a sword like this?”

She watched his hand move in a long, singular stroke down. “No, not any sort of sword, really. Nothing more than the rapier.”

Zenos remained focused on his work. “You could handle one.”

“I’m sure that I could,” she said. “I just…” She considered her own preferred methods of combat: archery, magic, the long length of a lance. “I guess I’ve always been more to keep my foes at a distance.”

“Until now.”

“In combat, I mean.”

“Mm.” Zenos tossed the cloth aside and rose to his feet. He moved a few yalms away--a safe distance from the fire. “Come here.” She did not move, and so he added: “Please.”

She looked at the meat and the low fire. It would still take some time to finish cooking properly, and so she decided there would be no harm in humoring Zenos. He waited, watching her intently as she got up and moved to where he stood. He held the katana out, turning the blade to point over his shoulder.

“Take it.”

Summer Ruby nodded and closed her fingers around the hilt. Zenos pulled his hand away, and she let out a soft noise of surprise. The blade was lighter than she expected--honestly no heavier than the rapier that still hung at her hip. It was a delicate thing that cut through the air with minimal resistance as she experimentally flexed her wrist.

“What do you think?” Zenos asked.

“How do you manage to do so much damage with one of these, without breaking the sword itself?” Summer Ruby looked up at him.

“Practice,” he said. “Not all blades are alike in durability.” A smirk played on his lips. “I broke one on you, remember?”

“How could I forget?” She was lucky she had been able to get enough healing for that attack not to leave an ugly scar down her front.

“I could teach you how to use one.”

She considered the blade in her hand. It was not one of the ones that he had wielded against her in Ala Mhigo. She shook her head. “No.”

His gaze remained steady on her. “As you wish. Should you change your mind, I would be happy to give you a lesson.”

“Thank you.” She started to hold the blade out to him, but stopped. “There is something that you might be able to teach me more on.”

“Oh?” His hands moved to cover the one still supporting the sword. “And, what is that?”

“The Echo.” She looked up at him. “How did you come to gain such control over yours in such a brief period of time?”

There was a tenderness to the way he pulled the hilt from her fingers. “Ah. I see.” The sword returned to its scabbard. “The easiest way to explain that would be intent. I _intended_ to gain control over my false Echo, and so I did with my will. ‘Twas a simple enough thing once I knew where to focus my intent.”

“Teach me how.”

Zenos’ head tilted to the side as he looked at her, and a thoughtful hum vibrated in his throat. “I believe you already know more about the Echo than I. You merely have not put any effort into understanding your gift.”

She wanted to tell him that the Echo was not a ‘gift’, that it was something they all had, back from their lives millennia ago. But she was not ready to try and explain that all to him, as much of what Emet-Selch had tried to teach her was still a muddy mess in her mind. She had only a tenuous understanding, and no one left to help her unravel those mysteries.

Instead she said: “Show me how you gained understanding, then.”

Now it was he who hesitated, looking away, out in the direction of the quiet volcano. Then: “Alright.”

He moved behind her, wrapping his strong arms over hers and resting his chin on her right shoulder. She found herself immediately leaning into him, into the warmth he radiated.

“So, suppose sometimes when you are in battle, you find yourself able to more easily see where your enemy intends to swing, to strike at you. Not anticipation, no, but almost as though you can see their aether as a physical, visible manifestation. You use that to avoid being hit as much in combat.” He waited until she nodded, and then continued. “Or perhaps you find yourself facing a much more dangerous situation than normal, and you feel as though your very soul awakens and grants you more power than you normally would have. Or you are struck with what should have been a mortal blow, but do not die, for your soul is tenaciously tethered to your mortal flesh.” His hands moved to take hers, and she felt his aether in his palms, warm and waiting for the contact. “That is all the Echo.”

She shivered and pressed into him. “And that is what you are tapping into when you fight?”

“More now than before, before I acquired my Resonant. But, as I have continued my training with it, I cannot help but wonder if my Echo was already activated by something long ago, and it was merely my Garlean flesh that kept me from fully realizing its potential.”

“You are still Garlean, Zenos. What prevents that from inhibiting you now?”

“Mm. I believe that the gift is like a beast that, once awakened, can only be subdued with the sleep of death.” He hummed softly, a tuneless noise that thrummed along her shoulder. “That and the Resonant. It functions as a bypass for my powers.”

“I don’t have that, though. I don't know how I could activate the powers of the Echo at will.”

“It should be easier for you,” he said. “You do not have to overcome that limitation. The only thing you must surpass is your own self imposed limitations.”

 _And I have plenty of those_ , she thought. “Thank you, Zenos.”

“Of course.” He started to pull away, but she squeezed at his hands. “The meat will burn.”

“Wait.” She closed her eyes, willing a bit of her aether into his palm, as though she were attuning to his touch. A sound, soft and surprised, escaped from him. Zenos kissed at her throat.

“There will be time for that later.” He easily pulled his hands free, and she sighed. “I promise.”

They spent the afternoon in each other’s quiet company. Summer Ruby, for one, was glad for the quiet, as she was quite certain that the more she spoke with Zenos, the more foolish she made herself look in his eyes. She sat on the floor, one of the books from the shelves open before her. Zenos sat behind, his long legs having no trouble resting alongside hers. He kept his chin on her shoulder, though she could not tell if he was using her as a convenient place to nap, or if he was actually reading over her shoulder.

She read slowly, her mind still wandering back to the earlier near conflict out on the path. She thought of his immediate and complete snarling madness at the intrusion of the guard. Zenos had told her that he did not get angry, but that had been a close impression of the emotion. Perhaps it was her own presence that set him off. Or perhaps Zenos was like a weapon that grew irritable without use. He had been _behaving_ for her, for weeks now. As far as she knew he had not drawn his sword on any man since they had made their accord. Was he just pent up? Were that the case, she might need to give him the fight he craved sooner than she had anticipated.

Eventually, when the afternoon shadows grew long and consuming, Zenos grew bored of either napping or reading, and slid his hands up under her tunic to cup her breasts. She gasped softly, and arched into his touch.

He whispered into her ear: “Would you join me in bed, Aesta?”

She blushed as she felt him press into her backside. “Of course.”

Summer Ruby yelped out a laugh as Zenos wrapped an arm around her middle and stood. He carried her to the loft, hoisting her easily into the air until she could grab at the edge of the loft’s flooring and haul herself up. He swiftly followed, stooping slightly as he set about removing his tunic and trousers. She removed her own clothing and sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for him.

“I want to try something different,” she said as he loomed over her. Zenos gave her an inquisitive look.

“Go on.”

She took his right hand and guided it between her thighs. “I want you to touch me down here. If you use a few fingers in me, it will make it easier for me to take the rest of you.”

Zenos looked down at her thighs, and then up to her face. He looked a bit flummoxed. “You want me to…”

Summer Ruby held up the pointer and middle fingers of her free hand. “Fuck me with your fingers.”

He glanced at her upheld hand, then back to her thighs, and nodded. “That sounds reasonable enough.”

She managed not to sigh, wishing that the man was always so cooperative with her demands, and not just when sex was involved.

They moved further onto the bed. Zenos half straddled her right thigh, keeping her knees apart. He leaned down to kiss her as his first finger probed at her entrance. A pleased little growl rattled in his throat as she squirmed against his hand.

“Ah, yes, like that!”

His fingertip delved deeper, stroking a steady line along the roof of her inner walls. She moaned softly as he repeated the motion, and Zenos chuckled into her mouth.

“Are you always this easy to get worked up, my sweet?” he teased. She swatted lightly at his arm.

“If you do it right--” She gasped as he indeed _did it right_. Her hips twitched, and her hand slid up his arm to grab at a handful of golden hair. “Fuck!”

Zenos watched her, blue eyes rapt, as he continued to stroke at her. He purred down at her: “You said two fingers, yes?”

“Ahn--” She grit her teeth, admittedly flustered by the noises he was coaxing out of her. “Yes, two!”

“As you wish, Aesta.” He kissed her again, tongue teasing its way between her lips. The second finger slid in alongside the first, stretching her open wider with its steady thrusts. 

She groaned as she rode his fingers, hips twitching as his fingertips curled against the pleasurable spot inside her.

“You look so beautiful, coming apart for me,” he said, voice a low purr that resonated in both her ears and mouth.

“Oh, gods, Ze--” She bit her lip, choking on a moan as she came, clenched hard on his thick fingers. A needy cry escaped her lips as his fingers withdrew. She stared up at him, panting, and watched as Zenos licked at his fingers with a smirk.

“Mm, are you ready now, dear Aesta?”

She nodded eagerly, but held out a trembling hand. “W-wait!”

Zenos watched, head tipped slightly to the side in aroused amusement, as Summer Ruby rolled over onto her belly. She pushed herself up onto her knees, giving a soft cough as she caught her breath.

He leaned over her and murmured in a teasing tone. “Is my little wild rabbit ready to _mate_?”

She pressed her face into the pillow, half embarrassed at his words, and half still desperately aroused. She nodded, the bed creaking as she adjusted the placement of her knees and rocked her ass into the air. She was rewarded with the feeling of the head of his thick cock rubbing against her slit.

“The prey wants for her hunter!” She gasped. Zenos’ teeth grazed lightly along the back of her neck. Summer Ruby shivered and rolled her hips back, feeling the head catch between her slick folds and press into her. 

“Then she shall have him,” he growled into her neck. His chest was warm against her already flushed skin as he covered her, hips rocking forward to slowly fill her with his cock. She groaned, hips jerking back needily, pushing him in deeper until the head could go no further. As in Gridania, she delighted in the heavy fullness of him. He ran his hand over the bulge in her lower abdomen, and she squirmed, her inner walls tightening around him.

“Ah, please Zenos!” She ground her hips against his. “I need--ahh!” Her back went taut as his teeth brushed her neck again, this time catching the soft skin and biting as he began to thrust into her. She dug her fingers into the bedcovers, moaning blissfully as she twitched her hips to meet each thrust. When she came again, clenched tightly on him, she pressed her face into the pillow to muffle her scream. 

He followed not long behind, buried deep in her trembling body. Zenos wrapped his arm around her waist as he flopped to the side, holding her to him. 

They lay in a quiet daze for a long time, until the reds and golds of the late evening had given way to the deep blue of the night.

It was in the last dwindling moments of his afterglow that Zenos’ mind inevitably made its way back to combat. Summer Ruby had half come to expect this--one need satisfied leaving the other’s toothy maw wide for attention--though she did not quite anticipate the route it took.

She lay against his side, his right arm idly tracing a slow path down her sternum, between her breasts, and down to her navel. The line of a nearly recent, carefully healed wound. One he had given her on their first meeting. The touch was a strange caress, careful and yet carving at the same time. When she shivered at the touch, it caused a twinge of pain in her neck, and she pressed her palm to the place where Zenos had recently bitten.

“You have to stop biting me,” she muttered as she applied a healing spell. “You’re going to get us into trouble.” He just grunted softly in reply.

Zenos murmured after several ensuing minutes of silence. “You know, I learned of you some time before we ever met in person.” She hummed softly to acknowledge that he had spoken, but said nothing herself. “Of course, when first we met I was not aware of your identity, and was unable to make the connection due to your... condition, at the time.”

“My weakness.”

“Yes. But, I had read van Baelsar’s reports on the Warrior of Light and their Echo, and other related reports regarding the failure of the Ultima weapon. Intriguing business, and it led me to lending my support to further research into the Echo.” His fingers came to a stop poised over her navel. She shivered as his touch lingered there. “But there were other times I read of you. My father insisted that I remain informed of things happening in areas of Eorzea that might be of relevance to our own efforts in Ala Mhigo and the surrounding lands. Political happenings that we might able to turn to our advantage.”

She whispered: “Sounds boring.”

“It was, if I’m to be quite honest. The tediousness of politics was never my forte. As you well know, I preferred to focus on the combat end of matters. The usage of weapons, the twisting of coveted tactics to put an enemy on edge. Those sorts of things.” His hand flattened into a possessive grip on her abdomen. “But, amongst all that tedium, I did read of the sudden and unexpected death of the ruling Archbishop of the Holy See of Ishgard.”

Summer Ruby cringed and turned her face away. “I don’t want to talk about that.”

Zenos nipped lightly at the edge of her ear. “Ah, but I do.” His voice dropped to a purr. “You killed the old man, didn’t you? You’re a kingslayer, just the same as I.”

“It wasn’t the same at all,” she said. “He wasn’t even a king.”

“The Archbishop was the highest ranking political figure in Ishgard. That makes him the king, by all rights.”

She frowned, wanting to change the subject. “Talk about something else.”

“Mm. You’ve killed an Emperor, as well. Just as I have.”

She squeezed her eyes closed. “Shut up!” She tried to pull away, but his grip only tightened.

“There is a darkness in you, Warrior of Light. There must be, to cause you to struggle to maintain your balance, to quietly agonize over the things you have done in the name of the greater good.”

It took effort not to growl at him through her gritted teeth. “It’s called having a conscience, Zenos. You might want to try getting one of those.”

His breath was warm against her ear. “The darkness is not a bad thing, Aesta. Much as one’s own conscience, how the darkness is viewed is completely subjective.”

“Is that how you justify the horrible things you’ve done?” Her eyes stung. “Because, it doesn’t make me feel any better. I’ve killed so many people, and have to keep telling myself that it was for the greater good. That someone had to die, so that others might survive and have better lives. And even if the words are true, they don’t make me feel any better at all.”

He was quiet. Then: “I have never had much cause to put thought into it. Death is death, no matter the reason.”

“There has always been a reason,” whispered the Warrior. “For you. For me. To end suffering, to bring peace, to conquer, to...”

“To stave off the ever encroaching boredom of being alive,” he murmured. “Surely you are no more innocent of that than I. Surely there were times, in your early days of _adventuring_ and doing work for your precious Scions, that you took a job to kill a man, or five, or ten, even though the pay was awful, just because you were feeling listless and needed something to do.”

Summer Ruby’s eyes opened wide, still burning from unshed tears. How could he know that?

“Am I wrong? I think your restless body count might rival my own.” There was a soft, gentle tease to his voice. “And yet I am the villain, and you the hero.”

“Stop!” She choked out a sob and struggled to curl away from him, but he would not let her go. “Please, I don’t want to talk about this anymore! Stop gloating over my failures!”

“Failures?” he echoed. “Where have you failed? You yet live, thus you are no failure.”

She could not tell him. He would not understand.

Zenos was silent as she wept, his chin resting just behind her ears, hands gathered over her heart.

Finally, when everything had begun to burn shamefully from her crying, he said: “Perhaps you would be better off if you returned home. I can do nothing for your spirit. I neither understand nor care for the mold to which you wish to shape yourself, the _guilt_ with which you wish to chain yourself.”

Another sob started, but caught in her throat. Taking her tears back to Ishgard would do no good. Aymeric was no better suited to understand, to help, than Zenos was. She shook her head.

“No?”

“Please, don’t send me away,” she whispered, her throat aching.

The bed shifted underneath her as Zenos sat up. He leaned over her, fingers hooking into her armpits and adjusting her so she was on her back, and not curled piteously on her side. Zenos did not wipe her tears away. His hands curled to encompass her face, thumbs pressing lightly into her tear-stained cheeks. “I wasn’t really intending to send you away. Why would I do that?”

“Because I am broken, and miserable, and not worth your time. I am not fit to be your friend.”

His pale eyes looked into hers before flicking away. “You did not seem miserable before. On our walk, in the water, in this bed.” His gaze struggled to stay on hers. “With me.”

His hands were warm, palms heated by his rushing blood and the flow of his aether. His brows drew together. “You would have me be rid of you?”

“You could find better to pass your time with than me.”

“I do not think I could.” His face fell, though she did not think him possible of such sadness. “Have you forgotten so readily? Forgotten what you mean to me?” Zenos leaned in, his breath warm against her lips. “You are that which fills the eternity between every beat of this monstrous heart. I do not need you to be good or bad or a hero or anything at all. I just need you to _be_.”

She whispered: “Why?”

His lower lip trembled against hers, and he shook his head. _He doesn’t know, either_ , she thought. For all his bravado, he was as clueless as she when it came to understanding the gravity that had drawn him to her.

He whispered into her: “Please. Stay.”

The dull first light of morning brought with it wakefulness, and with that an ache in her head. She groaned softly, squeezing her eyes shut again. The soft murmur of rain met her ears, pattering gently on the wooden roof overhead. Summer Ruby moved to sit up, but found that she was bound in place by a pair of strong arms. The prince’s face was pressed to her back, arms caging but not crushing, right foot hooked with hers. There was something else, mixed in with his presence, his heat, wrapping around her like an old blanket. It manifested warm and red behind her eyelids. His aether, she thought, flowing silently along her skin, uncommonly gentle as it sought hers out, lingering over her face and neck and the bruise on her shoulder. Why was he doing this, she wondered. Was he even doing it on purpose?

“Zenos?” she called softly. No reply, but for a slow, soft exhale along her spine. Not intentional, then. Not even Zenos could completely control his aether while he slept. 

Summer Ruby pressed her hand to the back of his right arm and focused her aether into the limb. It was no aetheryte to be attuned to, but the flow of her aether still had the desired effect. His grip slackened, and she was able to carefully slip free from his arms. After considering the tangle of discarded clothing on the floor next to the bed, she retrieved her tunic and smallclothes and slipped them on. She climbed down from the loft, trying not to make enough noise to wake her companion. 

Her pack still waited for her on the chair next to the desk. The chair itself had become a bit of an extension of her pack, scattered with bits of her clothing, her prep knife, and a twist of bright orange flowers she had collected during the latter end of yesterday’s walk. Summer Ruby opened the pack again and rummaged through the pocket until she found her alchemy supplies.

“Now is not a good time to leave,” Zenos’ voice came from above. “It is raining.”

Her ears twitched, and she paused in her search to look over her shoulder. Zenos was awake, sitting cross-legged at the top of the ladder. She sighed.

“I’m not leaving yet. I just need some painkillers for my head.” She shook her head with a grimace. “It aches after making a fool of myself last night.”

“A fool?” There was a soft thump behind her. “Do you think answering to your emotions makes you weak, Aesta?”

She frowned. “Don’t you?”

His pale eyes focused on her, mouth setting slightly in a line. “No. I answer to my feelings as much as the next man. Mine are just much more… limited than the average person’s.”

She found a small yellow glass jar, half full of its powdery contents. “Tell me, Zenos. Do you hold any resentment toward the men who molded you into the monster you are today?” She picked up the wooden cup that sat on the desk and filled it with water before mixing in some of the yellow powder.

Zenos watched her gulp down the contents of the cup, tipping his head to the side with a thoughtful expression that reminded Summer Ruby of his great-grandsire.

“Should I? Someone must be the monster, and I have been quite good at it, would you not agree?” He moved closer, hand extending to brush his thumb along the corner of her mouth. “It is as it was meant to be. Like so many other things in each of our lives, had I not had the upbringing that I did, I would have likely never had cause to meet you.”

Summer Ruby returned the jar to her pack. “You wouldn’t have needed me, had you a happier childhood.” 

“You don’t know that.” He traced his thumb down to her chin. “Perhaps we were meant to meet each other, regardless of who was on what side. Do you not believe in fate?”

“Certainly.” She snorted softly and shook her head. “But, I have a very difficult time believing that you have the capacity for such a fanciful notion.”

“Ah. Perhaps I do not. Perhaps you have rubbed off on me. Given me a bit of your sentiment.”

She looked up at him. “And what have you given me in return?”

Zenos smirked. “Who said I had to give anything at all?”

Summer Ruby rolled her eyes, feeling a touch more at ease as the powder started to take effect on her aching head. “You speak like that, and I don’t think you’ve changed at all.”

“Perhaps I haven’t changed. Perhaps you have simply come to know me better.”

_Is that a good thing, or a bad thing?_

She went over to the door, pushing the bolt out of the way and pulling the heavy wood open. The morning air was cool and damp, and her ears were met by the sounds of the rain. The surface of the warm pool hissed faintly with steam at the rain’s caress, and the usually meager waterfall flowed more heavily now, washing the contents of one of the pools off over the side of the cliff. Zenos followed, standing behind her, breath warm against her ears.

“Do you plan on returning to Ishgard today?”

“I don’t know. I can’t stay here forever, Zenos. It would be greedy of you to expect me to stay a third night.”

“I do not care if it is greedy,” Zenos said airily. “What wrong is there in my wanting this time with you?”

She said nothing. They both knew what was wrong with their actions. 

“Will you be upset, if I choose to go home today?”

His fingers pressed lightly to her hip. “No. Just disappointed.”

“What would I have to do, to make you angry?”

For a moment Zenos said nothing. Then: “I told you, I do not get angry.”

She pressed: “What would Aymeric have to do?”

Now he frowned. “Keep you from me.” He shook his head. “No. Were he to keep you from being where you wished to be…” His fingers squeezed at her flesh. “Do not make me continue such speculation, Aesta. I do not wish to do so.”

“I understand.”

“Am I so easily read?”

She flexed an ear to brush against his cheek. “No, but for a man of such obstinate stoicism, you are very forthcoming with your feelings. With me, at least.”

“No one else ever asked.” Zenos mimicked his father’s gruff tone. “A prince is not mean to concern themselves with such matters. He is to learn to fight, to rule, to conquer.” He huffed softly and pushed past her, bypassing the stairs entirely and stepping out into the rain. He kept his back turned to her, pulling his hair over his shoulder. She watched the rain wander in rivulets down his back, tracing the lines of his muscles.

“Zenos?”

His back stiffened. When he spoke, his tone was flat and defensive: “Yes?”

“Thank you. For inviting me out here. For listening to me.”

For a moment he said nothing, face raised to the sky. He cleared his throat. “I will always listen to you, Aesta. Even if all you want of me is someone to yell at.”

She smiled. “Ah, so you’ll listen to me, but not obey my wishes, is that it?”

Zenos shrugged.

Summer Ruby did not bite back the slightly bitter laugh that bubbled out of her throat. “I suppose that’s as good a concession as any.”

For a long while he was quiet, face tilted into the rain. Then he lowered his face. “Aesta, I must apologize.”

She blinked at him, uncertain that she had heard him correctly. “What?”

His voice was a nearly contrite murmur. “For last night. For provoking you into tears. I do not… I do not mean to do such things. I just cannot stop myself.” He laced his fingertips together for a moment before pulling them apart again. “So I just want to apologize. For then and… for the times I will surely do it again.”

Summer Ruby stared at him. She was not sure he understood or really even meant the words he was saying, but it was a start. At what, she was not sure, but it would have to be better than nothing.

“Thank you, Zenos. I appreciate it if you make any effort at all.”

He held a hand out. “Would you stay until the rain ends?”

She stepped out onto the wet earth, feeling it squish underfoot. Summer Ruby took his hand. “Yes, I can do that.”

He smiled.


	19. [Echo] She of Secret Weddings

Summer Ruby had been alone in her suite at the Pendants for hours when, in her boredom and lethargy, she realized what the date on the Source would be. She felt cold as she did, and recounted the days and weeks to make sure she was correct.

It was her anniversary. She had been married to Aymeric for a year now, and she was not anywhere near him. Not even on the same damned _world_ as him.

The realization ripped something out of her. It was not a good thing for her mind to pick upon when she was already lonely and exhausted and _dying_ from the Light clawing at her veins. She dropped to her knees, a miserable wail tearing itself from her throat. She wailed and wept, collapsing further to the floor with no one there to stop her.

So lost to her misery was she that she did not initially notice the faint gleam of the spirit materializing near the window. She was only dimly aware of Ardbert hovering to her side, of the faint tingle as he tried to touch her shoulder but failed.

“Hero--Summer-- _please_ , you have to calm down. Or call one of the Scions, or the Exarch, or someone--” He made a frustrated noise. “I can’t help you!” Ardbert turned in a circle. “Where is that creeping old man with his magic mirror when we need him?!”

She wanted to scream at him, to tell the spirit to shut up and go away. But she couldn’t. It was all she could do to not choke on her own sobs.

After a few minutes, something crossed between she and the window, and cast a gentle shadow over her. Ardbert sputtered softly in surprise.

“This is not how I expected to find you, hero,” Emet-Selch said, his voice soft. She shuddered against the floor, trying not to drown on the tears in her throat as she struggled to speak.

“What do you want??”

He exhaled softly as he crouched next to her. “I but came to spend some time with you, what else would you expect from me?” The Ascian rested a hand gently on the crown of her head. “And here I find you in near hysterics on the floor. Whatever is wrong, hero?”

Summer Ruby shook her head, voice catching in a hiccup. “I just want to go _home_ ,” she whispered. “I want to go but I can’t.” She cracked open her burning eyes to look up at him.

Emet-Selch’s sad smile was sincere. It reached his eyes, but sadness remained there as well. “I know how that feels, sweetheart.” He shook his head and pressed his gloved palm to her temples. “You’re hot. In fact, I would say your aether is burning up. Have you been getting into more trouble since the forest?”

“She’s _sad_ , you stupid bloody Ascian!” Ardbert shouted. “Are you blind?”

Summer Ruby shook her head and looked away, toward the open windows. Ardbert lingered there, his frustration almost a tangible cloud around his spirit.

“Please, Summer. Talk to him, if you can’t talk to me about whatever troubles you. I’ll leave you be.”

She looked away, but nodded.

Emet-Selch was touching her cheeks now, cold and pleasant against her flushed skin. There was delicate concern in his voice as he observed her. “You do not seem any worse for wear from last night. Your aether is still doing its best to hold fast against the Light... So, if it is not that which brings you to such tears and homesickness, what does?” He looked into her eyes, the gaze soft and sincere and slightly vulnerable. She wondered again, as she had in the Greatwood, what god had decided it appropriate to burden the Ascian with such a soft-eyed look. It made her want to comfort him, though she scarcely could find comfort for herself.

“Please,” he said. “You can tell me.” Emet-Selch sighed and murmured, almost beyond her hearing. “Once upon a time we were the greatest of friends, and you would have told me anything. There were no secrets between us.”

Summer Ruby sniffled and did her best to squirm out of his grasp. She wiped at her eyes. “It’s no secret. Well. It is, but not perhaps the sort you might think it to be.”

“Then, tell me.”

She pulled herself free and managed to get to her feet. She could feel his gaze on her back as she went to the windows and reached to touch the flowers in their decorative box. “Today is my wedding anniversary. Married a year. And I can’t even be there for it.” Her eyes stung anew. “What if I never get to go home? What if I lose to the Light, and never return to Ishgard? To my husband, to my family...”

“Ah, I see.” Emet-Selch stood and daintily dusted off his skirts. “Yes, that would be enough to bring a fair maiden such as yourself to tears.”

“Don’t patronize me.”

She could hear him scoff softly. “You would rather I told you to _suck it up, hero_. That such behavior is unbecoming of the champion of the unworthy? That you do not deserve to have your own feelings and needs like any other man?” His cold hand brushed against her hair. “You know such things are not true. You deserve peace and happiness as much as anyone else.” He held a folded square of soft white cotton over her shoulder. She murmured her thanks as she took it, wiping off her eyes and cheeks.

“Why do you even care, Emet-Selch?”

The cold fingers brushed her hair over her shoulder and traced a line down the back of her neck. “My caring is my own prerogative, you know that. I need no great reason for aiding you.”

“Fair enough.”

“I’m not very good at this anymore, but I’m going to hug you, Summer Ruby. With your permission, of course.”

She sniffed again and nodded.

His long arms were a comfort to her, and his hands met in the smooth space between her collarbone and heart. For a few minutes he said nothing, cheek pressed against her hair. When he did speak again, his tone was pensive.

“I thought you and the Scions were venturing to Amh Araeng today?”

Summer Ruby shrugged and shook her head. “We were. We still are. Just not today. Thancred and Minfilia had some disagreement over breakfast, and Thancred stormed off. And then Urianger went off to find him, and...” She shook her head again. “We’ll try again tomorrow. It’s not like the Lightwardens are really going anywhere.”

“Perhaps not,” he said in simple agreement.

“And so then Y’shtola was all ‘you should use this as a chance to get some rest’, and I ended up back in here, and then I realized what the date would be, and...” She made an embarrassed noise as her stomach growled.

“What, have you been banished to your quarters all day, like an unruly child?” She could see his face tip into view from the corner of her left eye. “That is rather unfair and unkind.”

“I’m not locked up in here,” she said. “I took a nap, and then I just didn’t feel like doing anything. No one’s come to check on me, that’s all.” Except for Ardbert, of course, but Summer Ruby did not feel like going into that explanation at the moment.

Emet-Selch pulled away, making a noise of disapproval. “They expect the world of you, and offer only unkindness in return.”

“I’m sure they think they're doing me a favor. A bit of peace and quiet. Time to myself.” She turned to look at him, again puzzled by the look of concern on the Ascian’s face.

“All the same.” He rested his hands on her shoulders and gestured at the table. “Sit, I’ll take care of you.”

Those words again, she thought. “Why?”

“Someone has to, hero, and as you are not in a condition to do so yourself, a friend will have to tend to you in your stead.”

Summer Ruby let herself be gently pushed toward the table. “Since when are you my friend?”

“Since always,” was the Ascian’s flippant response. He snapped his fingers, and a bottle appeared in front of her on the table. “But first, a gift.”

She looked at the bottle, a tall unlabeled thing of dark violet glass. “I don’t know if I should be drinking that much wine right now, Emet-Selch.”

He _tsk_ ed and uncorked the bottle. “’Tis not wine, hero, but something else that you are in need of.” The Ascian picked up one of the empty glasses from the table and dispensed with the bottle’s contents. She watched, curious, as a thick grey-green liquid filled the bottom of the glass. “Can’t have you getting ill while saving the realm, now can we?”

She accepted the glass and took a sniff of its contents. The odor was familiar. “My... nausea tonic? But why?”

“Your time is clearly already very valuable.” He recorked the bottle. “It was a simple enough thing for me to extrapolate the ingredients from what I saw you put into that mess. So, I figured I would save you the time.”

“That’s...” She watched as Emet-Selch picked up the water pitcher from the table and filled another glass that he placed in front of her. “Thank you. I don’t know what I’ve done to earn such kindness from you.”

His expression pinched briefly as he watched her consume the tonic and water. “Nothing at all, my dear hero. One should not have to do something in order to feel that they deserve any kindness in return. Courtesy is something that should be freely given.” He gestured at the sky visible through the open windows. “After all, the people of the First did absolutely nothing for you, and you are sacrificing your health to save them. And those half-men don’t deserve such generosity from you at all. They thank you, and they enjoy the stars, but where are they right now?”

“Enjoying their lives,” Summer Ruby said. She turned the empty water glass in her fingers. “That is why I am doing it, Emet-Selch. So that they can be free to live in peace.”

“And you?”

She shook her head. “I don’t get peace.”

“Why not? What makes you different? What makes you so willing to give yourself over and over, until naught remains?”

She stared at him, wondering why the Ascian appeared to be offended for her on her behalf. She did not know how to answer him, not really, and so she said: “Peace is never a good thing. Not for me. Whenever I get a little bit of peace, something inevitably comes crashing in to fill the void. Some terror the beastmen invoke, or the Garleans construct, or the Ascians create.”

“Ah.” Emet-Selch looked away. “I do suppose that I have had quite a heavy hand in all of that, yes.”

“And I should be angry at you for all of that,” Summer Ruby said. She swallowed, the words scarcely touching her conscious thoughts before tumbling from her lips. “I should break this glass and shove the shards into your eyes, and scream at you and do _something_ to hurt you, as you have brought harm to me. But I don’t. I can’t. I can’t bring myself to hate you, despite everything you have done. Because though done with intent, it hasn’t really been done with malice, now has it?”

“It is done with love,” Emet-Selch said, the words falling heavily from his lips. “Always with love. Elidibus told me that he tried to warn you, some time ago now. That if you could just _see_ what we were doing, and why, then there would be no need to fight. If you could have just... woken up then, so much trouble could have been spared. Perhaps even Lahabrea could have avoided his unpleasant end.”

“You all knew me once before, didn’t you?” She did not quite understand what that meant. “Who was I, to you all, that you would bother trying to reach out to me at all?”

Emet-Selch hesitated, golden eyes flicking to the side as he considered the merit of her query. “A very good question. But not one I can answer for you right now.”

“Why not?”

“Because, I fear it may cause more problems than it might help prevent. You are not yet ready for the answer to that question.”

“Will I ever be?”

The Ascian stared at her. He held out his right hand, palm hovering just over her collarbone, eyes briefly closing. “You are far closer now that you have been in millennia. I hope, sincerely, that you might be ready to learn in time sooner than later. No more of us should have to die before your awakening.”

She worried her lower lip between her teeth. “Will it hurt?”

Emet-Selch blinked his eyes open, and they widened slightly as he looked at her. “What? No, no, of course not.” He hesitated. “Perhaps a little indigestion. But nothing dangerous. It will be like just waking up from a very deep sleep and intense dream.”

“It must be dangerous, at least a little, or you would rush the process.”

He shook his head. “A soul is a very delicate thing, my dear. And as much as I look forward to speaking with you again, to force it at an unnatural pace is just as risky as trying to invade a new territory without having sufficient intel.”

She squinted at him. “Did you just go _Solus_ on me, Emet-Selch?”

The Ascian smiled shyly and scratched at his cheek. “Ah, so you _were_ fully paying attention.”

“Of course I was.” She tipped her head toward his. “I always listen when you’re speaking. I never know what I’m going to need for the test.”

His lips curled into a fond smile. “You really haven’t changed at all.” Emet-Selch patted his hands on his knees and stood. “Now then, how about I conjure up a little treat for you, hmm? It is your anniversary, after all. Someone should help you celebrate, even if it isn’t the person you want it to be.”

“You don’t have to.” She cut off his protest. “But you want to, so I won’t try to stop you.”

Emet-Selch’s smile lingered. “You truly are a treasure, Summer Ruby.”

She knew not from whence it came, but Emet-Selch summoned up a believable facsimile of an Ishgardian dinner plate. It was convincing, except for the little Imperial insignia on the edges of the white and gold plates.

“I didn’t expect you to be so well versed in Ishgardian cuisine,” Summer Ruby said as she speared her fork into a hunk of fried fish. Emet-Selch sat to her left and helped himself to a forkful of popoto from the dish.

“Yes, well, it never hurts to know the dietary habits of your enemies,” he said in a cheerful tone. “In case you need to win over some dignitaries.” He swallowed and picked up his glass of wine. “Or cause a food shortage.”

“You’re just feeling very imperially inclined today, aren’t you?”

The Ascian sounded unapologetic: “It does happen.” He winked at her as he conjured up another bottle of wine. “Would you like a glass, or would you prefer a cup of tea?”

“Can I have both?”

He smiled. “Anything the hero desires, she may have.”

They consumed the meal in moderate silence, Emet-Selch occasionally musing over the peculiarities of Ishgardian culture--maintaining a horrible lie for a thousand years was certainly an impressive feat--while pouring himself more wine. He eventually reached the tolerance level for his vessel, and leaned on the table while occasionally giggling softly.

Summer Ruby reached and threaded her nails through the white streak of hair that framed the right side of the Ascian’s face. “I should not be enjoying your company so much, Emet-Selch. It is wrong of me to do so.”

His yellow eyes followed the movement of her hand. “Is it? Do you feel remorse, then, for spending the quiet hours with me? Is there guilt in your lovely breast over your actions?”

“I--” Even now the Light flickered and crackled at the edges of her soul. Trying to focus on how she felt only brought pain, only brought a threatening resurgence of the wailing panic she had felt upon realizing what the day was. She shook her head. “I don’t know.”

Emet-Selch sat up and drained the last of the wine from his glass. He rested his head on her shoulder. “I don’t know, either, my dear. Finding succor in the arms of another man? Perhaps you should feel guilty.”

_Imagine the sorrow and rage that might be unleashed should he find out..._


	20. What Love Has Made of Me

Though it was no colder outside than it was any other day in Ishgard, Summer Ruby was cold as she sat in front of the fireplace in the Borel manor. The flames crackled, warm and steady thanks to the servants’ careful tending, but she could scarcely stand to look at them for more than a minute or two at a time. Any longer and the flames warped, striking her mind with memories that she did not want to claim or take part in. The world burning, the people screaming, the very aether of existence cracking and crumbling apart... 

And an accusatory voice that might have been her own, telling her _this is your fault. You could have prevented this from happening._

She kept her eyes squeezed shut, and tried to ward the words out. Because she knew, horrible as they were, that they were right.

With her eyes closed, the fire faded from her mind, but was replaced by Ishgard’s icy chill. A place to call home, a place where the warmth of another body was preferential to the flames--

_You have to tell him. Not telling him is just as bad as lying to him. He will find out, and if it isn’t from you he will be far, far more angry than if you’re the one to tell him._

The Warrior of Light pressed her face into her hands.

Aymeric had to admit that he was beginning to become concerned about his wife’s well being. It had been a week since Summer Ruby’s last return from the First, and since then she had been, well, _quiet._ According to reports from his steward, she spent her days taking care of Merle and otherwise sitting in the study, reading or just staring into the fireplace. She still chatted over dinner and let Aymeric tangle himself in her arms in bed, but she was… withdrawn. He thought of her tired outburst at the Scions some two weeks before. She had not brought up the incident since then, and he had not felt inclined to press the issue. 

But he wondered now, as he made his way into the quiet manor, if perhaps he should.

He found his wife sitting on the couch in the study, dark blue housecoat wrapped over the plain linen tunic and trousers she was wearing. She did not look as though she had left the house again that day, and he was certain a quick consultation with the servants would confirm this. Summer Ruby was silent, face aimed at the fireplace with closed eyes. Aymeric cleared his throat to announce himself.

“Good evening, my love. Is it just you? Where is Merle?”

Her voice was soft: “Sleeping in his room.”

“Oh. Of course.” He watched her, waiting for her to say something else, but nothing was forthcoming. She did not move. “I--I’m sorry, Summer. Were you taking a nap? Did I disturb some meditation of yours?”

Again she did not move for a long moment, but then her eyes cracked open. “No.”

Aymeric swallowed, unable to shake the feeling, the certainty that something was wrong with his wife. He closed the door to the study and made his way over to the couch. “Summer, please. Tell me what troubles you. Whatever it is, I cannot continue to let you suffer in silence.”

“I…” Her voice trailed off, tone uncertain, and she pressed her palms together. “Perhaps suffering in silence is the better option for all.”

He frowned. What did that even mean? “Please. What happened to you on the First? You’ve seemed different since the last time you returned.”

Summer Ruby opened her mouth to speak, then thought better of whatever she was going to say and closed her mouth again. Her hands twisted together in her lap. Aymeric stood and watched as the Warrior of Light sat before him, wringing her hands and struggling to meet his gaze.

Finally she spoke, her voice strained: “In the time since… since Merle was born, I have not been faithful to you.”

“What?” He stared at her, feeling the blood draining from his ears. This was not what he had expected her to tell him. “You’ve slept with someone else?”

She didn’t look up from her hands. “Yes.”

 _Of course she has_ , a bitter voice in his head said to him. _Why would someone like her ever be satisfied by someone like you? She could have, and would deserve to have absolutely anyone in the realm._

His silence caused Summer Ruby to look up at him. “Aymeric, please, don’t think like that. You mean more to me than all of Eorzea.”

The anger clawing its way into his mind made it difficult to school his expression. His thoughts went back to her words, and he was afraid to ask: “Who?” _Who am I going to have to put a quiverful of arrows into?_

Her hands fisted in her lap, and her gaze shifted to her knees for a long moment. Then she looked up at him once more: “While I was on the First, with the Ascian Emet-Selch. And, with Zenos yae Galvus… more recently.” 

The words his wife had said did not make sense, and all he could manage was an incredulous: “What?”

“Just those two.”

“Just those two,” he echoed, mind reeling. All the men or women in all of the whole world or beyond, and it had to be two of their most hated enemies. It made absolutely no comprehensible sense. He looked at her again, and could only manage to repeat: “ _What_?”

She was silent at his repetition. Aymeric took a step closer, disbelief and anger baring their teeth and snapping at each other in the back of his mind. “Summer, why would you--how could you--with those _monsters_?”

Summer Ruby swallowed hard. He could see the muscles of her jaw and throat move with the force of it. She stared up at him, the blue eye dark and cold and the red eye bright like Dalamud, the little yellow scar a crack threatening to let all of creation out.

“I can’t undo it,” she said. “It was just something that happened.” A tear streaked from her right eye. “But I am sorry for hurting you. I am a monster, too, Aymeric. And monsters destroy everything that is good in the world.”

“You are not--” He started to reach for her, to wipe her tear away, but checked the motion. “You are not a monster. You are my wife. Not a monster. You must be mistaken somehow.”

She said nothing, and shook her head.

Aymeric stared into her eyes, and she stared back. He thought of the Ascians, of the fate that had befallen his father. How could she find her actions to be at all conscionable? He heaved a sigh. “Seven hells, Summer.”

She was silent as he got up and went over to the liquor cabinet. He poured himself a glass of dark red liquid, downed it in a single painful gulp, and then returned to the couch. She had not moved, aside from rubbing the corner of her left eye.

“Summer, I--” He stopped, trying to piece together what to say. His body felt too heavy to stand, and he sat next to her on the cushions. “I need you to tell me what’s happened to you. What happened to you on the First.”

Her gaze remained leveled in his direction, but she did not look directly at him. “That’s a lot of story to ask of me, Aymeric.”

“I need to know.” He reached and took her hand, hoping that she did not notice how his trembled. “You know I love hearing your stories.”

He could feel her fingers curl and squeeze lightly against his. “This is a hard story.”

It had to be for her to be admitting that she had been sleeping with the enemy, for her to be so willing to hurt him like this. “Please, Summer.”

She closed her eyes, head tipping down slightly toward her breast. When she spoke again, her voice had dropped into something soft and darkly nostalgic. He had to lean in to hear her clearly.

“Ages and ages ago, in a time long lost to mankind, the world was not as it is now. It was a singular, peaceful place, unbeholden to any gods or primals or such things. But then something happened. A sickness came to the land, one that festered in the hearts of men and beast and soil alike. The world began to succumb to monsters and darkness as it had never known. In desperation, the leaders of the land set upon a scheme to save the world. They summoned a will to the world, one that would hold it together and stop the end from coming. But it--” She stopped, brow wrinkling. Aymeric blinked, feeling dazed by her words, and uncertain as to what they had to do with her treachery. He squeezed her hand.

“Go on, love. I’m listening.”

Summer Ruby swallowed. “To do so required a sacrifice of half the souls on the world. But it did work. Zodiark awakened, and some level of balance returned to the world. But so much had been lost, and the god that they had created asked for more in return to bring life back to the world. There were detractors to this new mission, those that did not want to sacrifice even more. So they created a god of their own, one that would bring Light and life back to the world. And She was called Hydaelyn.”

Aymeric blinked as she paused for breath. “Wait, Hydaelyn was _summoned_? But that would make her a--” He clamped his mouth shut. Such thoughts were blasphemous. “Go on.”

“Hydaelyn and Zodiark battled fiercely, but in the end She won and banished Him. So severely did She thwart him, that His form fractured into fourteen pieces. And along with it went the entire world and every thing and every soul upon it. Only a few survived this destruction, and they are now known to us as the Ascians. These limited numbers decided to put a plan into action to restore both Zodiark and their world back to their original form. We, here on what they call the Source, know that plan as the seven Umbral calamities. One by one, each sharded world was tipped to overflowing with an element, and when it reached a breaking point it all came crashing back down to the Source.”

He thought. “So, this has been going on for thousands of years.”

She nodded. “There was wind, then lightning, then fire. Earth ended the Allagan empire. Then there was frost, and the great flood 1500 years ago ended the fifth astral age. And, of course, most recent was that of darkness.”

He murmured: “How did you memorize all that?”, but she just stared at him blankly before continuing. 

“The next was to be Light. On the world of the first shard, the Ascians had worked to overwhelm the world with Light. It was due to flood into the Source in the next calamity, not long from now. All would perish. You, me, everyone entirely.” Summer Ruby blinked a few times, and her expression pinched in pain, hand going to her left brow. “We had to stop that from happening.”

“Are you alright?” He wanted to ask her what was the point of this story, why was she trying to distract him from the source of his anger.

“Yes. No--I mean. I just need some water.”

Aymeric retrieved a glass from the cabinet and filled it from the pitcher of water that rested on the sideboard. He returned to where she sat and pressed the cold glass into her hands. She murmured softly in thanks and quietly sipped the offering. He sat again, hoping that she could not see the tremble that lingered in his bones and threatened to make his armor rattle. 

When she spoke again her voice had returned to its normal nearly sultry tone, and lost its reverent edge.

“On the First there are monsters caused by the flood of Light there. The locals call them sin eaters. Think voidsent, but Light based. Horrible beasts. Horrible way to die, turning into a sin eater.”

He watched the familiar flicker of remembrance cross her face. “And...what does this have to do with…” He swallowed back a bit of bile at recalling why she was even telling this story. “With what you did.”

“The First is the world I was stolen away to when I disappeared from the tower in Mor Dhona.” Summer Ruby tipped her head back, eyes going to the ceiling as she inhaled deeply and then let out a slow, heavy sigh. “I was trapped there, unable to return home. And, as it ever happens whenever I go someplace new, I was given a task. Save the world again. It wasn’t like I could just turn down such a demand. I’m a hero. When someone is in need, when they cry out for aid, I answer. That is my blessing and my curse.” Her gaze had not returned from the ceiling, and it was impossible to ignore the bitter twinge in his wife’s voice.

She continued: “The Light was poised, ready to spill over from the First and down here to the Source. It, combined with the Empire’s plans to use the Black Rose toxin, would lead to the next Calamity. Most would die, myself included. That was how it was presented to me by the Scions and the man who brought me to that world. I had to prevent the cascade of Light because if the Warrior of Light died, then all hope would be lost. Mankind would be doomed.”

“Why did it have to be you?” Aymeric asked, keeping his voice soft. “Why does it always have to be you?”

“That is the question I am always left asking. And I do not know. At first it seemed a gift, a blessing, but the more often this happens it feels like I am being punished for something I did in a previous lifetime.” She blinked a few times and lowered her gaze to him. “But on the First, it was me again. I became to them the Warrior of Darkness. We slew the great monsters filled with primordial Light that had been seeded by the Ascians for their work. And I absorbed that Light, because no one else safely could without becoming a monster themselves.”

He watched her close her eyes and press her fingertips to her eyelids. A faint, weary smile came to her lips. “The night sky was a beautiful thing. At first that was enough to keep me going. The happiness of the people I was aiding, the gratitude, the… assurance that I was doing the right thing. It made it easier to keep going, even when the Light started to burn at my insides and made it obvious that the task was killing me. Because I just wanted to get things done, so I could cast the First into my memory and come back home. I just wanted to be back here. With you, with our _baby_ \--” Her voice cracked. Aymeric watched as her hands slid down her face. Her slender shoulders jerked in a snorted laugh. “It was all easy and straightforward, until we met the man responsible for it all.”

“The Ascian?”

His wife nodded. Her eyes cracked open, but she did not look in his direction. “You remember our meeting of parley with Emperor Varis, yes? He did not lie when he spoke of his grandsire. The being we knew as Solus zos Galvus was indeed an Ascian. Emet-Selch.”

Aymeric had heard her say that name before somewhere, but could not recall. As he struggled to find the memory, he watched his wife’s posture shift. She sat up straight, and her eyes opened near to the point of mania as they fixed on his face.

“To stand in the presence of such a being was akin to being but a drop of morning dew cast in front of the blazing burn of the sun. A thing of undiluted, undiminished power, and he stood so casually before us and offered us cooperation. Not hostility or violence. Just his aid.” Her expression calmed and clouded. “It was we who met him with hostility and suspicion.”

“In fairness, you reacted properly,” Aymeric said. “This Emet-Selch was an _Ascian_. A malevolent being that wants only to bring death and destruction to our star.”

“Yes. That was our reasoning as well.” Her expression calmed further. “But he was different. Never before had we encountered an Ascian who bared his face without hesitation, who… who never raised a hand to us in violence, until we forced him to.” Something like remorse reflected itself on her lovely features. She murmured: “What has happened to us? Have we been deceived so many times in our efforts to do right, that we afford no first chances to our enemies, let alone any chance for redemption? For change? For--” She stopped and sighed.

He did not know what to say. She rarely spoke her thoughts like this, rarely judged the characters in the stories she would tell him. Especially when she and her compatriots were among those characters.

“I mean, yes, he did present himself with a very pompous and superior air,” Summer Ruby said. “But, he’d spent the last fifty years playing Emperor, on top of generally just being a superior being.” She scoffed softly. “And I’ve gotten used to men in power talking down to me, so it was easier to brush aside his airs. Easier to listen to him when he talked to me.”

Aymeric flinched. Is that what she thought of him? “I--I don’t talk down to you, Summer.”

She blinked and shook her head. “Oh, no, you don’t, sweetheart. Of course you don’t. But there was a time before we ever met that I had to deal with every two-bit bandit leader or shitty pirate captain or imagined lordling speaking down to me, as though I had to prove myself to them, too, because all my preceding actions and deeds for the realm meant absolutely nothing.”

He thought of his many detractors, of the ones who still spoke out against him despite everything he had done for Ishgard, and nodded.

She picked at the edge of her tunic. “And the Ascian, Emet-Selch, he wanted so badly to be listened to by us. No, by me. I don’t think he really gave a damn as to what the Scions thought of him, but he knew that they went wherever I went. Except at night.”

He bristled.

“Emet-Selch took a particular interest in me. I wasn’t really sure why. Perhaps it was because I was personally miring his careful plans. That was what I told myself, initially. But he would come to my suite and we would just… talk. And yes, that led to sex.” Her eyes went to his, words cutting him off at his noise of protest. “I was lonely and afraid and in pain and _dying._ I needed comfort. And the Ascian, with his peculiar interest in just me of all people on that world, was a willing source of physical comfort. He… soothed my aches and pains and lonely heart, even as I worked to undo everything he had been laboring towards on the First. Perhaps his actions were born of a selfish desire, but he was kind to me when even my closest allies were half afraid to touch me.”

Aymeric stared at her, took in the sad slump of her shoulders, and mourned that he had been unable to do anything for her. He regretted that she had been forced to turn to her enemy for succor. He hated the Ascian for having taken advantage of her.

“Emet-Selch,” he said. “Where is he now?”

Her expression faded to a blank mask. “Dead. I killed him.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Because I am the hero.”

Aymeric remembered the night, nearly two moons ago now, when she had returned to him from her mysterious journey to the First. He remembered the strangely haunted look in her eyes and the reservation of her smile; the way she had held their child and quietly sobbed. He had assumed that she was simply worn down from her journey, and had not brought it up again later. Why hadn’t he? Why had he assumed that her silence on the matter meant nothing was amiss?

Now he stared into her face, and saw the misery hiding behind the careful mask. “You regret killing him.”

She looked away and nodded. Aymeric leaned and took her hand in his own.

“As cruel as the suggestion sounds, has it occurred to you that the Ascian might have been kind to you, befriended you, _bedded you_ , in the hope that you would not destroy him? That you would suffer with regret for destroying him?”

Summer Ruby grimaced and pulled her hand away. “Of course.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “And if that was truly his goal, then he was successful.”

Aymeric watched her, feeling helpless and yet quietly glad that the Ascian was dead. The slaying of a godlike being was far beyond his own capabilities. He supposed, given the outcome, that he could forgive this part of her sins.

There remained, of course, the issue of the Garlean crown prince.

“And what of the prince?” Aymeric asked, feeling a fresh spark of jealous anger in his heart even as he voiced the question.

She picked at her sleeve. “Zenos is a more complicated issue. I am not sure how to explain it.”

“ _Try_.”

His wife flinched, gazing at him briefly before looking away. “Zenos has been obsessed with me since first we met. The only way he could see the worth of anyone was through a haze of their blood. And that was how he saw me--nearly cutting me down at Rhalgr’s Reach.” She pressed her fingertips to her collarbone. “And since that night, I have been the object of his obsession. He is my hunter, and I am his prey. Or so he would say.”

He remembered the night the prince had shown himself uninvited in their home. “I am aware, yes.” How could she possibly have had any sort of sexual desire for that _monster?_ For someone who had actively tried to kill her?

“There is a… gravity between us, that neither of us understand, that neither of us know what to do about. It keeps me bound to him, and him to me.” Her eyes widened. “It surpassed death, Aymeric. He _died_ , and when he returned to life he cared not for his country or his duty, all he cared about was finding me.”

“With the intent of killing you.”

“Fighting me.” She frowned. “Battle is the only language he could understand.”

“I don’t see how any of this could excuse--” Aymeric made a frustrated noise and gestured at her. “ _That_.”

Summer Ruby was quiet for a long moment. Then she said, faint and unhappy: “Would it be easier were I to say that I don’t have a real reason for what I did with Zenos. That it was just physical attraction.”

“A little, yes.” The admission stung.

“Even though it would be a lie?”

Aymeric grit his teeth. He looked to the fireplace, to the flames that struggled to cling to the final log. He frowned. “And do you plan on seeing him again?”

“Were there a way to be rid of him, I would take it.”

He tore his gaze from the flames’ distraction to search her face. She met his gaze, mouth set in a firm line. He thought she looked sincere enough, but could not help but worry. “Please, don’t lie to me, Summer.”

She flinched, shaking her head incrementally as she looked to the hands still clenched in her lap. Aymeric heaved a sigh and ran his hands over his face.

“I don't understand. Why?”

“I did it to keep Ishgard safe.” She still was not looking at him, still not telling the truth. Aymeric could see the sheen of tears in her eyes--perhaps part of the truth.

“You’re one of the greatest heroes in the realm. Surely you could keep Ishgard safe without--” He clamped a hand over his mouth, inhaling sharply through his nose. _Without fucking the enemy_. The words were too cruel; he could not say them to her.

“Clearly not,” she whispered.

He got up, pacing to the sideboard and back without pouring anything.

“Do you still love me?” Aymeric asked, terrified of the answer.

“ _Yes_!” Summer Ruby got to her feet, hands fisted at her sides. “You must understand, I tell you all this because I love you! Anyone else would call me wrong, call me a fool, that you would be better off not knowing the truth. But you would have found out someday, and I would rather it be from me.”

“Y-you grind your heel on my heart. Why??”

“Everything I do, it is for you. For Ishgard.”

He grimaced. “You keep saying that.”

“Because it is true.” She paced a circuit around the chair, fists bouncing against her hips. “I do not know how to tell you why--” She paused, stumbling on her words. “Why Zenos happened. I cannot, because I still don’t understand it entirely myself.” She continued her pacing. “I didn’t _ask_ for it to happen. It was not what was in the agreement. All the same, I have come to think that it had to happen.”

“Had to?” He glowered. “Did you-- Did he force himself upon you?”

Summer Ruby uncurled one of her fists and gazed into her palm. “I’m sure it would make you feel better if I said that he did. But, he didn’t.” Her fingers curled closed again. “If anything, I nearly forced myself upon him.”

He watched her for a few moments, watched the way her face worked to maintain composure, the way her fingers fidgeted and periodically lifted to rub at the skin over her left eyebrow. He wondered, as he watched, if there was something he was missing. What if this was not really his wife he was conversing with? What if another one of the Ascians had gotten ahold of her?

 _No,_ he told himself, _you’re just being paranoid. You’re just trying to find an excuse for what she’s done._ It could have been the truth, maybe, but just as much she could have been just another weak mortal like the rest of them. Even the Warrior of Light was not immune to being led astray by the weakness of her flesh.

He stared at her, trying to make sense of the roil of emotions in his breast. He stared so long that Summer Ruby began to fidget. Finally, he cleared his throat and gestured at her.

“Disrobe.”

His wife blinked, and he could hear the soft, sharp intake of breath that followed. “What?”

“I want to see you. All of you.” Aymeric frowned. “You aren’t hiding anything else from me, are you?”

She slowly shook her head. “No. I just--that wasn’t what I was expecting you to say.”

“If you aren’t hiding anything, then you should have no trouble showing yourself to me.”

Summer Ruby exhaled softly, and then nodded. She looked at the floor between them. “Of course.”

Aymeric watched as she got to her feet. She unbelted her housecoat and draped it over the back of the couch. This was followed by the thin tunic and trousers she had been wearing underneath. There was nothing seductive about her movements. Everything was rigid and deliberate. She looked at him, and he gestured at her smallclothes.

“All of you,” he said again. He watched as she stooped and carefully slid her panties down her long legs before adding them to the pile. Now she stood, hands on her hips, something nearly defiant in her eyes as she stared at him.

He shifted his weight on his feet and moved closer. Aymeric could see the fine muscles of her jaw work and reflexively reached to touch her face. He was certain, completely certain, that there had to have been some mark left on her. Between a bloody _Ascian_ and that Garlean monster, they had to have done something. A scratch, a bite, a magic branding… something to have marked a new claim over her. He swallowed back a bitterness in his throat at the thought. She was _his_ wife, and even if she had slept with them willingly, they had no business bedding her. No business touching her or approaching her for that sort of thing at all. And yet they had, and she had taken them in and let them--

“Stop!” Her soft cry brought him back to his senses. Summer Ruby was tugging at his hand, grimacing at a pair of fine red lines the nails of his middle and forefinger had left on her cheek.

“My apologies,” he murmured, and stroked his fingers over the marks. “I didn’t mean you harm.”

 _She’s just trying to distract you, make you feel guilty_ , the little bitter voice in the back of his mind said. Perhaps she was.

He turned her face to the side, and then tilted her head back slightly. No visible marks. Nothing physical, at the least. He wondered what sort of markings a being like an Ascian might leave on a lovely thing of mortal flesh.

Satisfied thus far, Aymeric stepped around his wife. He studied the long lovely dark canvas of her back, and aside from scars he was already familiar with, found it free of blemish. The curves of her ass were untouched, as were the long lines of her thighs and calves. He found it baffling as he returned to the front. There was simply no way that the prince had his way with his wife and did not leave any visible marks at all. He was a violent, murderous brute, and Aymeric could not fathom the possibility that there might be anything resembling restraint or gentleness in the man.

And yet, as he sighted down the lengths of her arms and moved on to the slightly heaving plane of her chest, he could find no indication that another man had put his hands on her at all. He palmed her breasts, running his thumbs over the nipples that had grown firm in the cool evening air. She gasped softly at this, and he was quietly glad that she still responded to his touch.

But--she always had, hadn’t she? Every time that they had been intimate since her return from the First, she had always been warm and pliant and wanting in his hands. He could almost understand her being left alone and needing on another world, but back here, in her own home? How was he not enough for her?

 _A woman like her deserves more than you_ , the bitter voice hissed in his mind once more. He swallowed. The flesh of her abdomen was still soft in spots, still not entirely recovered from her pregnancy. Aymeric sunk to his knees and pressed his cheek to her belly, well-nigh overwhelmed by the memories attached to this part of her.

He whispered: “Beloved, hear my plea. Make thy home in me.”

Her warm palm pressed against his forehead before her nails combed through his hair. “Oh, Aymeric. You must understand me. I know what I have done is hateful, but I have done it out of love. You are my heart’s love, Aymeric de Borel, and I would have no other over you. What I do is to protect you, protect Merle… to protect all of Ishgard.”

The words were lovely and felt good, but the voice was insistent that she was lying, lying to protect herself and no one else. Aymeric felt his muscles grow tense at her touch.

Summer Ruby was startled to find herself pushed, almost roughly, onto the cushions. Aymeric loomed over her, eyes closed, brows together in a black line. His cheeks were flushed. She worried and reached for him--

“Aymeric?”

\--but he knocked her hands away, grabbing at her wrists and pushing them down into the cushions. He put his weight into the movement, and she grimaced.

“Your words are sweet, but they are just words, Summer.” He loomed in close. “I have not spent so long in politics to be unaware of such things.”

“Aymeric--”

“You are still hiding something from me.” He opened his eyes and glowered down at her.

He glared, and she felt the heat leave the room. His eyes were pale and blue, so very blue--

How long had he and Zenos had the same colored eyes? Had Aymeric’s always been that cold, icy blue?

“No--” She strained against his grasp, but his anger was fueling him. Aymeric closed the gap between their faces, nearly biting her lower lip with the ferocity of his kiss. His knee pressed between her thighs, and she gasped reflexively as the warm metal pressed against her most sensitive spot.

He leaned away, a line of saliva tracing from the corner of his mouth. Aymeric squeezed her wrists tightly. He growled: “Do not move.”

She did not move, was half afraid to as he removed his hands from her wrists and slid them in unison down her torso. They stopped only when reaching her thighs. She could barely focus on anything but the dark, _wrong_ look in his beautiful eyes as his nails dug into her flesh. She remained frozen, transfixed until he leaned in closer, and his teeth scraped at the expanse of her shoulder. His teeth and lips closed around the skin, tightly enough to draw blood to the surface. Leaving his own mark.

It hurt.

In a near panic, she lifted a hand and pressed it to his cheek. She willed her aether there, trying to reach him, to feel him touch her in return. There was no response from him, from his aether.

She realized what she was doing, and jerked her hand away, dread overtaking her. This was Aymeric, she told herself, not Zenos. Aymeric was never going to respond to her aether’s touch like Zenos did.

“Stop!” She tried to grab at his shoulders, but his armor got in the way. He grunted softly at the motion. “Aymeric, _please_!” She reached for the only thing available, and grabbed--nails and all-- at the sensitive skin of his right ear.

Aymeric grimaced and yelped, and his body twitched against hers. He stared down at her, eyes wide, chest heaving. She held his gaze.

“Don’t do this.”

He shuddered, and she felt his body strain against hers.

“Don’t take your anger out on me like this! I don’t want it!”

Aymeric grit his teeth and closed his eyes. Cautiously, Summer Ruby released the grip on his ear. She listened to the heavy huffing of his breaths.

And then he relaxed his grip on her. Aymeric staggered a few steps from the couch and turned away. When he lifted a hand to his face, she wanted to go to him. But as much as she wanted to comfort her husband, she was still wary of his anger. Opting to err on the side of caution, she scrambled up from the couch, pulling on her robe and retrieving the remainder of her clothing before hurrying out of the room. She fled to their bedroom, tossing her clothing aside and slipping under the covers. She pressed a healing spell to her bruised shoulder, and wept.


	21. Bend to Break

The next morning, she cannot get out of bed. When she awakes it is dark, and the space next to her under the covers is already growing cold. Summer Ruby lays on the bed, alone. An emptiness dwells in her head, heavy with the weight of its nothingness. Where there might be sadness there is only a muted feeling of lack. All that remains now is a faltering flame of anger, guttering as the emptiness drives out everything else. There is not air enough to maintain her fire, barely enough to fill her lungs, barely enough to convince her that there is even a need to breathe. She can forget to do that; her body will stubbornly carry on without her.

Aymeric goes to work when the world is still dark and returns when the darkness has returned. He lights one of the lamps in their bedroom upon his return, the darkness and light tracing their fingers over his face, highlighting the concern in his eyes when he realizes that she has not moved from the bed all day. He asks her what is wrong, but there is nothing she can say. _I am sorry_ , he says, though he has no reason to apologize. _What can I do?_ he asks. She just closes her eyes and listens to him weep. They are the only tears she has.

The next day is the same. This time, Aymeric returns after his morning meeting, and voices his concern when he sees that she has still not moved from their bed. He calls for the kitchen to prepare something for her to eat and drink. While that is prepared he strips out of his armor, leaving it in a heap on the bedroom floor. He pulls on his housecoat and then lifts her from the bed, silently toting her to the bathroom. He helps her relieve herself, and then deposits her into the bathtub. The water is far, far too hot, and she screams. He is stubborn, scrubbing her body clean, frowning at a faint bruise on the back of her neck, not letting her out of the water until he is satisfied. He finds one of her dressing gowns, blue silk and too expensive, wraps her in it, and carries her to the dining hall.

She is not hungry. She is not thirsty. Still, she eats and drinks what the kitchen has provided. She hopes he will be further satisfied and leave her alone. It works well enough. Aymeric takes her back to bed and tucks her in. _Get rest,_ he says. _Call for me if you need me_. She lays, silent, and watches him redress in his armor. Her eyes are closed before he has shut the door behind him.

Two more days pass like this. On the third, pain returns, dwells in the bone above her left eye. Her self doubt manifests itself as the voice in her mind. _You cannot give up like this. You are the Warrior of Light, are you not? You need to get up and fight._

She doesn’t.

On the fourth day, a piece of mail comes for her. She does not open it, but spends a long time perched on the edge of the bed, staring at her name written neatly on the folded paper. It is a summons from Zenos. She knows that from the handwriting alone. It has been less than two weeks since they were last together. Can he truly not wait to see her again? The missive goes into the fireplace, unread.

On the fifth day, there are two more letters from Zenos. One late in the morning, one a few hours later after the midday bells. They both go into the fire. In the evening, Aymeric is in better spirits when he returns from his day’s work. He picks her up from where she has settled in front of the fireplace, his lips feathering to hers in a sweet kiss. _Do not worry, my love_ , he says. _I have taken care of things. Everything will be fine, soon._ She does not know what he means, and does not ask. When she meets his eyes there is something dark and possessive dwelling in his gaze.

No letter comes on the sixth day. The emptiness flares to life and bites at the back of her neck, telling her that something is wrong. The pain in her head hangs back, waiting for her to act.

She gets out of bed and creeps her way down the cold halls, until she hears some of the servants speaking. _I heard it at the market--it’s true. There’s going to be a trial tonight. They caught that monster from the Empire--they’re going to put him to the sword._

The fire in her soul flickers.


	22. To Save a Life

_“Have you not learned that your ignorance and frailty beget only endless misery?”_

_\---_

The Lord Commander of the Temple Knights sat quietly in his office, pondering the last few days of his wife’s silence. Three days had passed since her sinful admission, three days since she ground her boot heel into his heart, three long days since she had lapsed into a miserable muteness. He wished she would speak to him, even if it were just to tell him a lie. He did not know what to do, and wondered if perhaps there was another way to solve his problems.

There was a knock on his office door, and Estinien let himself in without waiting for Aymeric to admit him.

He looked across the room at Estinien. One of the few Aymeric felt that he could completely trust--a number of people which had seemed to have grown smaller as of late. He still felt that he could trust his wife, yes, but not as implicitly as he had before her horrible confession. That nagging voice in the back of his mind was ravenous and quickly took to sinking its teeth into his confidence whenever he was alone with her.

Estinien flicked the door’s latch into place before speaking. “You said this was ‘important and confidential’, my friend.”

He cleared his throat. “Surely you’ve heard the rumors, that the Garlean crown prince has been spotted lurking about outside the city gates,” Aymeric said. Estinien tipped his head in thought.

“Aye, though naught but idle gossip from the guard,” said the dragoon. “There was some debate amongst the guard as to whether they were really seeing anyone, or if the shadows were playing tricks on their senses. But more than one reliable set of eyes has reported seeing a man in the trees near the gate, a fulm or so taller than themselves, with an uncovered head of blond hair.” Estinien frowned. “If not the crown prince being extremely bold in his surveillance, it still bespeaks of an Imperial spy.”

Aymeric nodded slowly. “So, you’ve read the nightly reports.”

The dragoon’s shoulders rolled in a shrug, and he looked to the door. “Every few days, certainly.”

He considered his reply. “Well, the reports are correct. Zenos yae Galvus is indeed lurking about the perimeter of Ishgard proper, plotting some untold horror.”

“Have you a different source from the guard?” Estinien wondered. Aymeric nodded.

“I do,” he said, but did not expand upon the statement.

Estinien stood near the door, arms crossed over his chest, patiently waiting for Aymeric to speak again. He looked at his dear friend, mind drifting back to when Estinien had been consumed by Nidhogg. In the end, the only solution to that problem had been to literally get rid of the problem.

What if he just got rid of this problem as well?

“I want an order issued,” Aymeric said, coming to a decision. “If Zenos yae Galvus is spotted anywhere in Ishgardian territory, I want him arrested for crimes against the state. I don’t care if we have to call on a dragon to hold him down, I want that man in chains.”

Estinien’s mouth pursed slightly. “You wish to endanger our men, on what charges?”

“War crimes in Doma and Ala Mhigo--damages done to the Ishgardian forces there. Coming to the nation of Ishgard with intent to cause further discord and destruction and harm to her people. I will send the papers to the Tribunal myself.”

Now Estinien frowned. “You would fight the man? Aymeric, Zenos yae Galvus could kill you with his bared hands.”

Aymeric was aware of the risk. “I do not believe it will come to that.” And he didn’t. Crazed murderer that the prince was, Aymeric believed that he also had a great enough sense of self preservation to not do something as ill advised as kill the leader of the very nation he was trying win his freedom from. Killing Aymeric was something Zenos would’ve done in private, were he going to complete the task at all. This was all, of course, what Aymeric was hedging his bets upon.  
He rubbed his hand over his mouth. “You’ll be my second, yes?”

The dragoon sighed softly. “Yes, of course. But why not ask thy wife? She is the only person on this whole star who has ever bested the prince in combat.”

“She is not to be informed of this,” he said. “This is no longer her business.”

Estinien just frowned as he nodded at his friend.

A light snow was falling on the crowd that had gathered outside the Supreme Sacred Tribunal of Halonic Inquisitory Doctrine. Summer Ruby said nothing as she drew her red coat around her shoulders and pushed through the crowd. One of the guards gave her a token amount of protest before she shouldered him aside and made her way to where a trial had already begun. Something thrashed in the animal part of her brain at the sight that met her when she entered the viewing box and pushed her way to the far edge of the crowd. The courtroom was packed full of spectators. The lords and ladies of Ishgard were out in full force, all curious to see the monster who should have been the new Emperor of Garlemald. They came in droves to see the man humbled, stripped down to just leather trousers and a plain cotton tunic, his arms awkward behind his back and bound in heavy chains of Ishgardian steel. His head was bowed, and his hair created a disheveled gold curtain to block his face. Summer Ruby’s fingers ached as they clenched at the railing. She loved and cared for the people of Ishgard, but the scene was stoking a flame of anger in her breast.

This was her fault, all her doing.

That was what she wanted to tell herself, at least, but she knew it not to be true. They were all three complicit in this--she, Zenos, Aymeric--in their anger, in their hunger, in their damnable need for completion. Summer Ruby leaned against the railing and wondered how they had managed to capture Zenos without anyone being killed. There was no way he would have let himself be taken into custody like this without a fight. And yet there he was, disarmed and seemingly defeated.

On the other side of the scene stood her husband and his champion. Aymeric stood in his standard armor, Naegling at his hip. Estinien was garbed in his Iceheart armor and wielding one of the standard lances from the Congregation training grounds, and not his own personal weapon. That was for the best, she mused, as no one really wanted to have that tainted thing running about in a holy space. She felt no anger towards them, not even disappointment. She could not quite pinpoint what it was that crept into her breast as she looked down at the man she loved. Perhaps it was dread. She wondered if he would notice she had made her way here, that she would be witness to their fates.

Her gaze shifted down to Zenos, so seemingly cowed, and wondered why he simply did not flee. Even in chains, she knew it would be nothing for him to summon a portal and take his leave of this madness. He could have readily freed himself from those chains and killed everyone in the Tribunal, starting with whatever unfortunate guard was holding his sword. And she, having ignored his summons, would have been in no position to stop him.

Down in the judges’ box, the High Adjudicator was wearing a vaguely impatient and irritated expression. He was tapping a finger on an unrolled stretch of parchment. She seemed to have arrived in the middle of the trial’s opening statements. The judges were all looking toward Zenos.

“You have had your time for deliberation, Lord Galvus,” the High Adjudicator said. “Answer your charges, or we will take your silence as a claim of guilt.”

What charges, she wondered, had her husband leveled against the crown prince of the Garleans? Why had he not brought this to her? She frowned. It worried her that Aymeric’s anger had brought him to this place.

Summer Ruby watched as Zenos flexed his shoulders and lifted his head. For a long moment he stared across the floor at Aymeric, before tilting his head back to address the High Adjudicator. His voice boomed when he spoke, clear and resonating and strangely calm. She could feel the crowd stir uneasily around her.

“I, Zenos yae Galvus, cannot deny the charges leveled against me in regards to my actions as viceroy of Doma and Ala Mhigo. I was acting in accordance with the laws and expectations of His Radiance, the Emperor of Garlemald, Varis zos Galvus. Furthermore, these charges are irrelevant to the interests and safety of the state of Ishgard, as it was the Eorzean Alliance’s involvement with the war against the Garlean Empire that caused any duress to the knights and soldiers of Ishgard, and not any direct assault on its lands or people.” Zenos shifted his weight on his feet, as though going into a combat stance. “However, I am innocent of the charge of having come to the nation of Ishgard with the intention of fomenting discord or bringing harm to its people.”

“Bold words of the accused,” the High Adjudicator said. “What was your reason for coming to Ishgard, then?”

“I believe my reason is not relevant to the trial, as it was not related to the charges.” She could see the flash of his teeth. “In so many words: It was a personal matter.”

She could hear Aymeric grind the heel of his boot on the stone floor, but her husband remained silent.

The High Adjudicator looked to the other judges, and then back to Zenos. “Fair enough. Have you aught else to say?”

The chains binding Zenos’ arms rattled as he flexed his shoulders. “I claim my right to trial by combat. But--” He paused, smirking as the crowd murmured among itself. “I cannot fight, so I claim the right to name a champion.”

There was a disbelieving hiss from the crowd. The High Adjudicator raised a hand to quiet the lords and ladies.

“Lord Galvus, you are known to be a peerless swordsman. We have on hand the sword you were carrying when you were captured. How can you expect us to believe that you cannot fight?”

For a long moment Zenos was silent. When he spoke, he was again staring across the room at Aymeric. “Because I have entered into an accord with the Warrior of Light, Summer Ruby, who is a registered citizen of the land of Ishgard. As part of that agreement, I have acceded to bring no mortal harm to the citizens of Ishgard.” He narrowed his eyes. “Down to the least.”

“You expect us to believe this claim?”

Zenos’ expression had neutralized by the time he looked to the High Adjudicator. “My actions should speak for themselves in this matter. Did I resist capture when the Temple Knights came for me?”

The High Adjudicator cast a look at Aymeric. The Lord Commander of the Temple Knights ground his teeth, but shook his head.

“No, my Lord. He came peaceably.”

“Very well. You have your right to a champion, Lord Galvus. However, I have a difficult time believing that anyone in all of Eorzea, let alone Ishgard, would stand against the Lord Commander of the Temple Knights and the Azure Dragoon on _your_ behalf.”

Zenos’ tone was borderline mocking: “Indeed, you might be correct in that assumption. All the same.” He half turned and looked up into the audience. He looked directly at her, eyes finding her immediately, a smirk playing on his lips. “As my Champion I name the one who has put me into this position of being unable to defend my own name. The Warrior of Light and Champion of Ishgard, Summer Ruby.”

She mouthed down at him: ‘ _You fucking asshole_.’ He just smirked up at her. She heard a soft, disbelieving sound of surprise come from her husband.

The High Adjudicator waited for the excited cries of the audience to die down. “Very well. Summer Ruby, what say you? It is not customary to have a single champion face the accuser and their second, but since you are the Warrior of Light, I will leave that to your discretion.”

Summer Ruby looked down into the pit. Estinien was stoic and motionless. Aymeric was staring up at her, teeth clenched, a plea in his eyes to _just say no_. And part of her wanted to, of course. The proper, heroic side of her did not want to fight her husband and their friend, not for a man like Zenos. Her love for Aymeric remained undiminished, but she could see his actions for what they were. Jealousy and anger and possessiveness were not becoming on the man.

Zenos would not stand up for himself against her husband. She would have to--if she denied Zenos’ claim as his champion, his guilt would be immediate. 

Summer Ruby swallowed and looked across the room to the judges.

“I will fight. But I have brought naught with me with which to do so.” She gestured at the judges’ box with her empty hands.

“My sword remains in custody,” Zenos said loudly. “She may use that.”

The judges considered, and then the High Adjudicator called: “Very well. She may be armed with the weapon of the accused, as she fights on his behalf.”

She flexed her arms and vaulted cleanly over the railing. Summer Ruby glanced around the chamber. It was too small a space for proper combat, but it wasn’t really intended for such. She had fought here once before, on Tataru’s behalf, and knew the place was meant to be a slaughtering ground for the accused. One of the guards held out Zenos’ katana, still in its scabbard. She took it, puzzling at a small worn leather pouch bound to the cord on the sheath. Her fingers closed around it, and she felt the faint warmth of aether. A small crystal, its aether nearly depleted. Zenos must have been using it for ages as a work around to his Garlean limitation. It barely held a charge, but she could still get use from the lingering aether.

As soon as the guard moved away she felt Zenos’ breath hot on the back of her ear.

“You can still fight, can’t you, Warrior of Light?” His voice was a purr inappropriate for the venue. “You haven’t gone _soft_ , my dear Aesta, have you?”

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this,” she whispered back at him. His broad shoulders twitched in a shrug, and his chains rattled.

“You don’t have to do it. You could let them try to execute me.” He chuckled. “But, you don’t want that to happen, do you?”

She closed her eyes. “No.” She loathed herself at that moment.

“Good. Don’t disappoint me.” Zenos retreated out of the way, off to the far end, the chains grating against the stone wall with an unpleasant shriek.

Summer Ruby looked across the combat floor once it had been secured into place. She took a few steps forward, and so did her husband. No, her opponent, she told herself. 

“I apologize in advance, for any harm I might be forced to instill upon you,” Aymeric said, voice low.

“And I to you, my dear.” She forced a smile. “Nothing fatal.”

He looked away. “Good luck convincing Estinien of that.”

“Take your anger out on me, love,” she said. “This may be your only chance.”

He whispered: “I never wanted to be angry with you.”

They returned to their starting points. The High Adjudicator raised his right hand, and the crowd grew quiet.

“O Halone, render unto us Your judgement! Raise up the righteous, and cast down the wicked!”

Estinien took to the air as soon as the judge’s arm dropped. Aymeric grit his teeth as he brandished his sword, wondering how everything had come to this point. How had he not known that Zenos was planning something? It should have been obvious when he surrendered to the Temple Knights. The man was known to be a wicked tactician, and--

Aymeric ran out of time to berate himself as his opponent--his bloody _wife_ \--charged at him. He took a startled step back, blocking the swing of the katana with his sword. Summer Ruby looked half ridiculous, dressed in her house clothes and red coat, but equally terrifying in turns. This was the Warrior of Light, slayer of gods and men and she was launching herself at him with a barely checked ferocity. Estinien missed his mark, landing behind her, and jumped away again as she pushed off from the Naegling and swung at the dragoon. Aymeric’s dread desire not to harm his wife was overrun by his combat training, and he gripped the hilt of his weapon in both hands and swung.

A sharp _crack_ filled the nearly silent air as his blade made contact with the scabbard still gripped in her left hand. Her eyes gleamed with an aetheric blue light as she effortlessly held him off.

Above them, the crowd broke its silence to murmur excitedly, seeming to have forgotten that they had come to see Zenos humbled in favor of seeing the Warrior of Light face off against the leader of Ishgard and the former Azure Dragoon. His struggle had been reduced to free entertainment. Aymeric cursed under his breath as he pushed his weight against hers, trying to hold her in place long enough for Estinien to get a hit on her. If he could just disable her or disarm her, the fight could be over quickly and--

There was a shriek of metal as the spearhead of Estinien’s lance scraped along the katana’s blade. He came close enough for Aymeric to see the focus and determination on his friend’s face. The spear point flashed over his right shoulder before Summer Ruby shoved the dragoon away. He heard Estinien grunt softly as his back hit the stony side wall of the chamber. Aymeric dodged away from the Warrior’s steady block and raised his sword again--

\--only to be struck in the face by an arc of levin that bolted free from the blade in her right hand. His muscles cramped painfully, and as he paused to catch his breath she turned and went after Estinien. There was darkness now in the Warrior of Light’s eyes as she went on the attack. Her first swing glanced off the spearhead, but a pivot led to a second swing that struck the lance’s shaft so hard it momentarily lodged itself in the wood. Summer Ruby grunted and pulled the sword free. Estinien stumbled, and as he regained his footing she raised her arm and belted him across the face with the flat of the blade. Aymeric flinched, remembering how much that strike would hurt. The dragoon swore at her and moved to strike, only for her left shoulder to slam into his chest.

“Estinien!”

Aymeric started forward as quickly as his tingling frame would allow, but knew it would not be fast enough.

She flipped her grip on the hilt of the sword and brought the heel of the hilt down hard on the fingers of the dragoon’s left hand. Even at a distance Aymeric could hear the horrible sound of something breaking, and could see the pain on his friend’s face as he grit his teeth. Summer Ruby returned the katana to its scabbard and flung it to the far wall. Zenos did not flinch as it clattered against the stone only a few ilms from his face. In the same motion she grabbed at the shaft of the lance and wrenched it from Estinien’s left hand. The dragoon growled and held fast with his good hand.

The Warrior of Light slammed her heel into his chest and kicked him into the stone wall.

And then, lance in hand, she turned on Aymeric. Beautiful and terrifying.

He did not have time to check on Estinien, who had half sunk to the floor in pain. Aymeric knew he was in trouble--his wife had no proper sword training, but she _knew_ how to use a lance, she had trained with Estinien himself. Something dark and confident crossed her face, even as he managed to slice through the left sleeve of her coat. They exchanged several blows, spearhead and sword grinding against each other. He swung, desperate, but again and again she effortlessly deflected his blows. It was as though she could foresee his actions, and Aymeric had no idea how he was supposed to stop her--

She did not want to hurt him too badly, just disable him, but she knew it had to be convincing. If the judges thought either of them had thrown the fight, it would be for naught. She whipped the lance around, striking him across the collarbone with the wooden shaft. He was well armored there, but the blow was still enough to stagger him. Another blow and he hit the floor, Naegling falling from his hand and rattling along the stone floor.

Her heart wrenched at the broken gasp of pain that escaped him, and she had to grit her teeth to not cry out his name. Summer Ruby stood over him, holding the point of the lance to his face. Aymeric was in agony, panting for breath. She wanted him to surrender, wanted this to be over. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, glad those in the viewing boxes above could not see her face. 

Below her, the Lord Commander of the Temple Knights shuddered and coughed roughly. He struggled to raise his hand in a gesture of surrender.

“Yield!” Aymeric wheezed loudly. His eyes widened, and he clamped a hand over his mouth as he raggedly coughed. The High Adjudicator looked to Estinien and waited for him to echo the gesture. The dragoon looked up from where he was braced against the stone wall, and lifted his hand.

“The Fury has spoken!”

Summer Ruby tossed the lance aside and knelt next to her husband. He was still wheezing loudly, eyes squeezed shut.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, touching his flushed cheek. “I’m so sorry!”

“Summer…”

A guard touched her elbow. “Ma’am, back to your side, please.”

_This is my side, isn’t it_ ? Summer Ruby thought as she reluctantly pushed back to her feet. She looked to where Zenos stood, still in chains, expression somber as he stared at her. She made her way back to him. _Why can’t you both just be on my side?_

For a moment the Garlean looked puzzled, tipping his head toward his right shoulder. Then his gaze shifted upward, to the High Adjudicator, as the man raised his hands, calling for order from the suddenly unruly and shouting gathering. 

“Zenos yae Galvus. You--” Again the judge hesitated, looking at Summer Ruby before returning his attention to Zenos. “You are hereby acquitted of all charges. Blessed are we who receive of Her wisdom and see justice wrought by Her divine hand! Petitioners, accused--go forth in _peace_!”

Summer Ruby wondered when the smug smirk had departed from Zenos’ face. In that moment, it hurt her heart to look at him.

“Why did you hold yourself to our accord when I did not answer your summons? Thrice you sent word for me, and I did not answer.”

“I assumed you had reason not to,” Zenos said, calm. “Besides, you did respond when I called for you a fourth time.”

“Fourth?”

He murmured: “Perhaps you did not hear me with your ears. But I called for you to come to the trial.”

She sighed as the guards came over to where they stood. “You’re still an asshole.”

His thin smile bore no malice. “I never said that I was not, Aesta.”

One of the guards retrieved the discarded sword, while the other grabbed Zenos roughly by the arm. “Come with us, Garlean. There is still paperwork to be finished before you are released.”

“Of course,” he said, tone dry as he cast another look to Summer Ruby. “Warrior of Light, my savior. I will thank you later.”

She said nothing as he was led away, but instead turned to the other side of the arena. Estinien was on his feet, leaning heavily on the training lance gripped in his good hand. Two temple knights were helping Aymeric to his feet. The Lord Commander was still wheezing in pain.

“You are a brute, Warrior,” Estinien noted. “An absolute monster.” She looked at him and wondered what Aymeric had told the dragoon.

“I never said I wasn’t,” she murmured.

He brushed a bit of disheveled white hair from his eyes. “You should think about getting back into training with the lance. It still suits you.” 

“Perhaps.” She frowned. “I’m sorry about your hand.”

“No need to apologize, sister. I agreed to be Aymeric’s second knowing full well I would be in danger.” He nodded politely as the knights led Aymeric away. “You should go by the infirmary and have them heal your arm.”

Summer Ruby blinked as he walked off after the others. She looked at one arm, and then the other, and noticed the rent in her sleeve. The red fabric was damp with her blood. She grimaced, wondering why she could not recall receiving the wound. 

From above the High Adjudicator’s voice called down to her. “Lady Summer Ruby, I do hope we never have cause to find you on that floor again. It is an unfair fight for those who must raise their blade against the wrath of the Fury herself.”

“I--you exaggerate, your honor, but I hold a similar sentiment in my heart.”

She left the Tribunal and made her way out into the cold. She felt fatigued as she threaded out past the lingering crowds, ignoring the curious and damning mutters of the nobles who noticed her passage. 

Summer Ruby felt a touch ill by the time she reached the infirmary. That was alarming, she thought, feeling so drained after such a short fight. She rubbed at the left side of her face as she made her way down the hall.

Estinien was leaning against the wall outside a closed doorway. One of the chirurgeons was fussing over his hand.

“Only two broken fingers, Summer Ruby,” he said by way of greeting. The healer muttered something under his breath.

“Oh. That’s… good to hear, I suppose.” She clears her throat. “Do you know where Aymeric is?”

The dragoon gestured toward the closed door. “They had to sedate him. You cracked a few ribs near an old wound.”

“He needs to sleep,” the chirurgeon snapped at her as she pressed a hand to the door. “Haven’t you hurt the Lord Commander enough tonight?”

She flinched and stepped away. “I--I’m--” Summer Ruby bit back her apology. She owed her words to Aymeric, not to the healer. 

“Don’t worry, he is safe here,” Estinien said. “I’ll watch the door for you.”

“I do not deserve your kindness,” she said.

“Well, Aymeric is my friend, too.” The dragoon grimaced as the chirurgeon held his broken fingers straight to bind them. “Seven hells, man, they’re already broken. Don’t make them worse.”

“Did he--” Summer Ruby hesitated. ”Did Aymeric say anything of me?”

Estinien flashed her a sympathetic smile. “Summer Ruby, he could barely speak at all. So, of course he wouldn’t shut up about you. Recited whole sonnets in his agony.”

She sighed and looked to the door again. “If he wakes, will you tell him that I’ll be by tomorrow?”

“Of course.” He lowered his voice. “Go home. Take care of your boy.”

Summer Ruby nodded and cringed internally when she realized that she wasn’t even certain if Merle was at home or with Ser Orage. For the child’s sake, she hoped it was the latter.

“Thank you, Estinien.”

He nodded and watched her silently as she retreated from the infirmary halls.

Summer Ruby was nearly to the exit doors before she realized that she had not seen to having her arm treated. She sighed and pressed a hand over the torn fabric and murmured a healing spell. It would have to do for now, and she did not entirely feel that she deserved better. Not when she had hurt her husband as much as she did.

Not when she had hurt him for _Zenos_.

She stopped, pressing her palm to the worn wall coverings. She had to focus and push the roil of negative emotions that clawed at her throat and made her eyes sting. _You should have stood by his side and helped him take Zenos down_.

Summer Ruby pressed the back of her fist to her lips and took a deep breath to keep the tears at bay. It took a few minutes of careful breathing before she felt steady enough to go outside and risk being seen. She pushed away from the wall and pulled the doors open.

She did not see Zenos before he saw her, she was sure of that. He was standing, staring at the doors to the infirmary, arms crossed over his chest as though warding off the cold and the lightly falling snow. 

He started for her, and after a few steps she stopped and waited for him. No sense in making a chase out of this, not now. Not after they had already snared each other.

Zenos stopped a precise two yalms in front of her and uncrossed his arms. He was still wearing the leather trousers and thin tunic from before, and had his katana belted at his hip.

“Zenos.”

He opened his mouth, made a soft noise, and then closed his mouth again. After a moment, he said: “Summer Ruby.”

She was tired, and irritated by his presence. “What is it, Zenos? I am going home, and you do not have my leave to follow me.”

“I don’t have to go,” he said, a nearly sheepish expression on his face as he held up a piece of folded parchment. “The court said... as long as I cause no trouble, I can stay in Ishgard for the time being.”

She looked at the parchment. “Then go to the inn and get a room. I’m not talking to you right now.”

“Why?”

“I’m _angry_ at you, Zenos. You made me fight my _husband_.”

“You didn’t _have_ to,” he said, half scoffing. She stopped and bumped his chest with her palms.

“What were you even thinking, Zenos? Why didn’t you just escape when the guards came for you?”

He bore his teeth at her. “I am not a coward, Summer Ruby. The guards only came to arrest me because your husband wants me dead.”

“He d--”

“You told him,” Zenos said sharply. “You told him about _us_.”

She sucked in a breath. When had that happened? When had there become an ‘us’ to even be spoken of? “I had to tell him, Zenos. I couldn’t keep not telling him. He’s my _husband_.”

He loomed over her, radiating fire and fury and something too fearsome for her heart to name. “And, what am I?”

Summer Ruby looked up at him. She thought of all the potential answers: a murderer, a madman, her hunter. He was not asking for these answers, she could tell by the tautness of his posture. She swallowed and let out the words: “My friend.”

“And that means nothing to you?” Zenos grabbed at her wrists as she started to step away. “Because it means a great deal to me.”

“Let me go.”

Zenos’ voice dropped to little more than an urgent breath. “I _can’t_.”

“You have to.” She flexed her hands in his grip. “I don’t want to talk to you tonight. So just go to the inn and don’t cause any trouble.”

His grip loosened enough for her to free her wrists. “And tomorrow?”

Summer Ruby swallowed. “I don’t know. Maybe go down to the Firmament. Make yourself useful; see if they need another pair of hands for labor.”

He grimaced. “You would have me--”

“You can’t just get by being a terror forever, Zenos.” She turned and started down the street. “Not if you want me to talk to you again.”

She could feel his gaze on her back as she hurried away into the night.


	23. The Phoenix of Ishgard

The next morning dawned bright and cold.

The Warrior of Light woke in a small room she did not immediately recognize, near to a crib, with little recollection of how she had ended up there. She was still dressed in her house clothes from the night before, but her coat was missing, and there was a carefully pasted bandage on her bicep. Her body briefly protested as she sat up, still weary from using too much adrenaline and aether to fight the night before. Summer Ruby frowned and wondered if Aymeric had woken yet.

There was a low, cheerful humming from outside the little room, and she realized that this was what stirred her from her rest. The voice was one she knew, and she waited for its owner to appear as it drifted closer down the hall.

A dark face framed by graying azure hair peeked into the doorway and smiled. “Ah, I was not trying to wake you up, Lady Summer, but good morning all the same.” He elbowed the door open, limping slightly on his left leg as he stepped inside.

“Ser Orage?”

The old dragoon neatly toted Merle in his arms, and Summer Ruby felt a pang of want as she saw her child. “I was just cleaning our little blackbird up after breakfast. He managed to get a bit of his morning mash into his ear, which really is impressive. Mande would’ve said he was due to be an archer.”

The little half-elf looked around the room, and his dark blue eyes lit up when he spotted his mother. He cooed and reached for her, and Summer Ruby got up from the bed.

“Oh, dear,” Orage said with good-natured humor. “I don’t know how I’m going to get him to settle down for a nap, now.” He handed the infant over, and she took him, brushing her fingers over his little black curls. Merle burbled happily and gripped at the front of her tunic. The dragoon watched them, green eyes sharp despite his jovial manner. “I’m glad you are doing better, my Lady. The Lord Commander said you weren’t doing so well when he brought Merle here the other day. And then you showed up here last night, something of a mess...” Orage hummed again. “The gossips in the Crozier this morning said you got yourself into a bit of a spat.”

“Yes, well.” She cleared her throat softly, still stroking her son’s hair as he rested his cheek against her collarbone. “’Tis the nature of a warrior to fight, is it not?”

“It is indeed.” The dragoon nodded vigorously at this, shifting his weight over his right ankle as he turned back to the hallway. “I can get something for you to eat, if you’d like. You’re a few bells too late for breakfast, but I can still find something for you.”

“Late for breakfast?” She half turned to look at the light coming dimly through the heavy curtains. “What time is it?”

“Nearly the mid-day bells,” Orage said cheerfully. “It’s alright, Lady Summer. You clearly needed rest more than you needed breakfast.”

“Oh. Thank you, Ser Orage.”

He disappeared down the hall, and Summer Ruby spent a few minutes standing in quiet, holding Merle and stroking his hair. The baby eventually dozed off in her arms, and she carefully kissed his forehead and settled him down in the crib before going down the hall in search of the caretaker. She found him in a small dining room, setting out a platter of breads and meats and cheeses and a steaming teapot.

“No servants?”

Orage did not look up from straightening out the tablecloth. “Oh, it’s just me these days. No need for much of a fuss.” He righted himself and gestured at one of the chairs. She noticed now that her coat was draped over the chair’s back. “I patched it up for you, good as ever. Though, I can make a new one for you, if you’d like. I can’t imagine that one fits quite comfortably after your ears got longer.”

She pulled the coat on after inspecting the neat mend on the sleeve. “That’s up to you, Ser Orage. I’m used to wearing this one.”

He hummed softly. “We shall see, then.”

Summer Ruby sat and started to eat. While the dragoon poured out tea, she noticed the painting on the wall behind him. It was one of those fancy official sort of portraits, the type preferred by the Ishgardian nobles. However, rather than proper finery, the man and woman in the painting were in armor. There was a female Elezen with closely cropped blonde hair, wearing the armor of the Temple Knights. Next to her was Ser Orage, garbed in his armor of the Knights Dragoon. There were two young Elezen boys with dark blond hair in the foreground. She thought the woman looked vaguely familiar.

“Mm?” The dragoon tipped his head to follow the line of his gaze. “Oh, yes. My family and I. Gracious. It’s probably been nearly fifteen years since we sat for that.” He sighed softly and pulled out a chair to sit. For a moment he looked forlorn, before plastering his usual smile back onto his face. “I still miss her, I do.”

“What was her name?”

“Mandelaine,” Orage said. “She was a Haillenarte, and an archer in the Temple Knights. Mande was my best friend. One day, we decided... well, really it was _her_ idea. Marriage of convenience, and all that. So we wouldn’t have to worry about our parents marrying us off to strangers who wouldn’t... understand us.” He hummed again, looking down at the tablecloth. “She was my best friend, up until the day she died.”

“I’m sorry, Ser Orage.”

“As am I,” he said. His tone turned bitter. “It should have been me. What good is an old broken dragoon who can’t jump?”

“There’s more to life than just fighting.” Summer Ruby looked into her teacup, and thought of Zenos. “Though, I know that can be a hard lesson to learn.”

A smile crept back onto the dragoon’s face. “Oh, I know that now. It took some time, and you ending the stupid bloody war, but I came to understand all that.”

She thought, looking at the painting again. “Is one of your sons with the Knights?”

“Oh, aye. Both are, in a fashion. One is with the chirurgeons and the other is an archer.”

“I just thought she looked familiar.”

The dragoon smiled, forefinger idly scratching at a scar on his cheek. “They were fortunate enough to take after her, yes.” He took a sip of his tea. “You know, I knew Ser Aymeric when he was younger, long before he got to the position he is in now.”

“Oh?” She smiled. “What was he like?”

“Mm, he was a hip high little brat,” Orage said into his teacup. “Well, brat is perhaps too unkind. He was very quiet, self-conscious. Bit of a temper. Spent one miserably hot summer learning to properly care for his bow from my wife.” The dragoon chuckled at some old memory but did not expand upon it. “Good kid, really. Lord Borel raised him well.”

She tried to imagine her incredibly polite and charming husband as a mouthy little child, and then thought of the infant asleep not far away. “I suppose now I have to look forward to Merle being a handful.”

“Oh, yes. Our little blackbird is definitely going to need a retainer to keep him in line.”

“Ah, well. That’s something to worry about once he gets old enough to start being sassy like some other Elezen I know.”

“Yes, most of us go through a charmingly sassy phase, if I must be honest,” Orage said with a soft chuckle. “Not all of us grow out of it.”

“Is that why you’re living alone, Ser Orage?”

He snorted, and something like a genuine smile, however wistful, appeared on his face. “Please. I spent most of the last three decades barely able to get more than a one night stand because no one in Ishgard wants to invest their energy in someone who’s probably going to die in the next dragon assault.” He twirled a lock of hair around his fingers. “I lived on the Congregation’s death pool board. Who’s going to die on the next patrol? Oh, definitely Orage.” The dragoon picked up his teacup. “Jokes on them, though. I outlived every asshole that wrote my name on that board.”

“That has to count for something. And the war is over now. No more dying to dragons.”

“Perhaps it might.” His brow wrinkled, and his voice cracked in his throat. “But, I’d rather have the war back on, and my best friend still alive.”

Despite his rather depressed and dismal train of thought, the old dragoon insisted on Summer Ruby heading off into the chilly near afternoon to go check on her husband.

“Don’t worry, Lady Summer,” he had said with a sad little smile. “I’m in good company.”

She made her way to the Congregation. No one was in the main hall, all gone for the mid-day meal, and so she made her way to the infirmary. There she was rather stiffly told by Captain Whitecape that Aymeric was still resting, and to come back in a few hours.

Summer Ruby was distinctly aware of the glares she was receiving from some of the people she passed by--some less subtle than others. No one was rude enough to say anything outright--not to the Warrior of Light and their savior--but the looks were there. She could not entirely blame them for their ire. Zenos was just another monster to them, a dragon without wings but just as dangerous. And she had defended the man.

Thinking of Zenos gave her pause. She recalled their brief conversation the night before. Summer Ruby wondered what trouble the prince had gotten himself into this morning. She doubted he would do anything so mundane as keep himself locked away in a tavern room in Ishgard, not when his secret was revealed and his presence known. There was only one place she could think to which he might have ventured.

Curious, she made her way down the winding cobbled streets and stairs until she reached the Firmament. Despite the bracing weather, the building business was booming.

“Oh, Miss Summer! Good to see you this fine morning!” the voice of Lord Francel called out to her. The young Elezen hurried up to her side, all smiles.

“Hello, Lord Francel. How fares the Firmament?”

“Wonderfully!” He adjusted his hat. “I must say, we could use another dozen of that Garlean fellow, if you know where to find them.”

She blinked, shielding her eyes with her hand as she looked down at him. “What?”

“Oh, you know. The, um, broody blond gentleman that came this morning volunteering for work. Said you had recommended the task to him.”

She fought the frown tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Lord Francel, you _do_ know who that man is, don’t you?”

He lowered his voice. “Of course I do, Miss Summer. I’m not daft. But, if he wants to work, I’m not going to stop him. We still need all the hands we can get.” He poked his elbow in the air between them. “You know, if you weren’t busy.”

“What has he been doing?” Summer Ruby ignored his suggestion, still trying to wrap her mind around the thought of Zenos yae Galvus doing anything that might resemble physical labor. He was a prince, after all, though that mattered for little here in Ishgard.

“Hauling stone for one of the new fountains, last four bells or so. Putting some of those Roegadyn the Maelstrom sent to shame, and he hasn’t said a thing, not even asked for a break!” Francel scratched his chin. “To be honest I think some of the Roes are trying to start a fight with him over it, but he just keeps carrying on like he can’t hear them.”

 _He can’t fight them_ , she thought. “Four bells, you said? I think he needs a break. Tell him his champion wants to speak with him.”

“Certainly. I’ll find his foreman.”

Ten minutes passed before the tall form of the Garlean prince threaded his way through the crowd. He was wearing the previous day’s thin tunic, the sleeves rolled up and the fabric clinging to his chest. His pale skin was pinked by a combination of exertion and exposure to the cold. A sweat soaked bandanna was wrapped around his head, hiding his third eye, but there was no real way to conceal who he was. Zenos stopped two yalms away and stared down at her.

“You called for me?”

She hesitated. “You’ve really been hauling stone all morning?” He nodded silently. “Why?”

“You told me to be useful. So I did.”

“I see.”

“Are you still cross with me?”

“Of course I am, you big--” She stopped and caught a hiss between her teeth. He frowned and looked to the worksite.

“I should go, then.”

“No--” She closed the gap between them and grabbed his hand. “I’m cross, but I want to talk to you.”

“I don’t know--”

“Oi, there he is! Blondie! What do you think you’re doin’?!”

Summer Ruby turned to see three big Roegadyn fellows ambling up to where she and Zenos stood. They were puffed up like a trio of pigeons. “Listen ‘ere, we don’ know what you think yer doin’ here, tryin’ to show erryone up, but we ain’ gonna put up with sass from a pretty shit like you!”

They were trying to be intimidating, she could tell, but the effort was all but lost on Zenos. He stared blankly at them. One of the men stepped in closer.

“Ain’ you got nothin’ to say to that, pretty boy?”

Zenos blinked. “I’m sorry, did you say something?”

“Why, you--”

The sun was too bright for Summer Ruby to tolerate the conversation longer than the brief amount of time it had been going on. She snatched the front of the man’s shirt and gave it a tug. “Who he thinks he is does not matter. This man is under the charge of the Warrior of Light, so if you have a problem with him or his work then you bring it to _me_.”

“Ey, who’re you--”

Her ears twitched and she bore her teeth at the man. “I did not stutter. Go back to work.” She pushed the man away and scowled at them, hands on her hips. The workers muttered between themselves before retreating back into the crowd. Summer Ruby turned on her heel and started for the gates that lead out of the Firmament district. Zenos trailed after her.

When they were back in the Brume, she stopped and pressed her fingertips to her left brow. “Too fucking bright out today.”

“Are you feeling well?”

“I’m fine. Fine.” She shook her head. “Just a headache.”

“Oh. Good.” He cleared his throat. “Might I be forward and tell you, that--” He gestured in the direction of the Firmament gates. “--what you did there, was incredibly attractive.”

She snorted and shook her head. “What’s the good in being the Warrior of Light if you can’t throw the title around now and then?”

He just smiled.

They walked in quiet for several minutes. Eventually they stopped and sat on a bench, a few fulms between them.

“Aymeric will hopefully be awake today after lunch,” Summer Ruby said. “So, I just wanted a few minutes to talk to you.”

Zenos removed the bandanna from his head and wiped at his forehead. “Are you sending me away again? Banishing me from the realm?”

“I--no.” She swallowed. “My friend. I won’t do that to you.”

“My friend,” he echoed. “I do not think it is wise for me to linger here more than is necessary. My every step, every move is observed. They wait for me to slip up, to give in to the compulsion for violence. And while I care little for my own safety, I do not want to cause you any undue strife.”

“I cannot always defend you.” She pressed her palm to the cold wood between them. “I cannot protect you from the hatred your past actions have earned you. If you choose to stay here, that is something you will always have to deal with.”

“I know.”

She tilted her head back and squinted up at the bright gray sky. “All the same, I do not wish you to disappear.” She took a deep breath, and the cold air stung at her lungs. “I want to keep seeing you. I--we still need to resolve whatever this _thing_ is between us.”

A faint brush of skin stirred against her pinkie finger. She glanced down. Zenos’ hand was nearly touching hers, but not quite.

His voice was little more than a whisper. “I will go. But, I still desire to see you as well, Aesta. My friend.” Zenos hunched over slightly, freeing his hair from the ponytail it had been bound into and scrubbing his nails at his scalp. “Perhaps this would be easier if you sent me away again.”

“You didn’t listen to me the first time I sent you away. And, I know you would not be able to keep yourself away very long. You’ve barely managed three or four days at a time since we were first intimate.”

“ _Since we first fucked,_ ” he said under his breath, a toothy smirk flashing onto his lips. She snorted a laugh and swatted at his arm.

“Look at you, trying to be charming.”

He caught her hand and pulled it to his face, brushing her knuckles along his cheek. His skin was still warm and flushed with his morning’s exertion. “Is it working?”

It was tempting, to let him stay, to throw caution to the wind. But... “Not enough for me to want to let you stay. You should go back to Gridania. Make a bit of a show of leaving. The people will feel more at ease, that way.”

“As you wish.” Zenos gently lowered her hand back to the seat of the bench. “When may I see you again?”

“I don’t know. Give it a few days. I’m still honestly upset with you, and Aymeric needs me right now. You have to remember that he takes priority over you.”

He grunted softly. “You take the highest of my priorities, Aesta.” Zenos leaned in and brushed his lips against her ear, a pleased little smile appearing at the restrained gasp the motion earned him. “I will be keeping an eye open for you.”

“Just, behave, Zenos.” She looked up at him. “For me.”

He smiled. “For you, my friend.”

After leaving Zenos behind, Summer Ruby doggedly returned to the infirmary. There she was again told that Aymeric wasn’t fit to speak with her.

“Listen,” she nearly snapped at the chirurgeon, “I know you’re just trying to protect him. I understand. But I just need to talk to him for a few minutes. Just a few minutes, then I will leave him alone.”

The chirurgeon frowned. “The Lord Commander is still in pain, Lady Summer. He doesn’t need you upsetting him--”

She growled at the man. “If he’s still in pain, then you had better do your job and _heal him better_.”

The man crossed his arms and frowned at a doorway. “Fine. Go see him. But if he’s worse when you’re done I’m banning you from here.”

“Fine.”

Summer Ruby knocked lightly on the door and cracked it open. She peered inside. Aymeric was lying on his back in bed, bare chest wrapped in a tight coil of bindings. He turned his face to the door and stared at her. For a brief moment his expression was tight, but when she forced an anxious smile onto her lips his face crumpled and he held his hand out to her.

“Summer.”

She pushed the door shut and went over to the bed. Aymeric’s hand trembled as she took it between her own.

“I missed you,” he said, tone sincere. She kissed his fingertips.

“I’m sorry, I--they didn’t want me to see you.” She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. “I--I--” She saw the tears in his eyes, and felt a warm wetness streak down her cheek. She wanted little more in that moment than to pull him into her arms, but knew that doing so would likely cause him pain. She settled instead for seating herself on the stool next to the bed.

They stared at each other.

“Is it bad?” Summer Ruby ventured to ask.

“My wounds? Nay, I have had worse. You didn’t _stab_ me, my love. It’s just bruises. They will heal.”

She squeezed his hand. “It must be agony, not getting to leave the bed and go to a meeting or page through a few stacks of paperwork.”

“It was more agony having to sleep alone last night,” Aymeric said. He wiped at his eyes with his free hand. “I would rather have been at home with you.”

“I wound up at Ser Orage’s place, actually,” she murmured with a short laugh. “Don’t remember how I ended up there. I guess I went to check on Merle.”

“Ah, yes, I took him there the other day, when you were…” Aymeric trailed off. “Not feeling well.”

She swallowed again. “Yes, Ser Orage said as much this morning.”

He exhaled slowly, a little tremor of pain crossing his face. “Summer. I do not understand. Whatever pained your heart these last days, why did it silence you so? I was galled with you, yes, but I--I still love you. I don’t--” He quieted, coughing softly. “I don’t understand.”

Summer Ruby looked down at his hands, at the lovely lightly tanned skin. She traced a fingertip from his nail and up over the line of each knuckle, until she reached the back of his hand.

“I feel like I can’t really talk to you,” she said. “About my problems, about the things on my mind, and what is bothering me.”

His expression soured. “But you can tell the Garlean about your problems.”

She sighed and looked at her hands. “It is madness, I know.”

“I worry for you, Summer. I do not want to lose you. Not to that man, nor anyone or anything else.” He reached to her left hand in his right. “Please, tell me what ails your heart.”

 _Why did you not ask me this when I laid in bed for a week? “_ I don’t know if I can.” _You were too busy trying to remove a different part of the problem._

“Please try.”

She looked into his eyes, again stricken by the uncanny similarity in the shade of blue when compared to those of Zenos. It took all her resolve not to look away. “Sometimes, I feel like you are only in love with the Warrior of Light. Not _me_ , not Summer Ruby. You are in love with the Warrior, her strength and fearlessness, how she inspires all who meet her to do better. But that’s just my job, the role that has been thrust upon me by some uncaring god.”

He was quiet, thumb rubbing absently at her palm. Finally he spoke, voice soft and trembling. “Summer, I know you are more than simply the Warrior of Light. I know you are just a woman under all that armor, that you are not invincible.” Aymeric swallowed. “How could I not know that? I sat by your side in our bed and watched you bleed out bringing our son into the world. And there was naught I could do, just hold your hand and pray to the Fury in desperation. Had I any notion beforehand of you being indestructible, it bled out onto the sheets that day.” He shook his head, a tear streaking down the side of his nose. “I mean--certainly, yes, my initial infatuation with you was borne from the mystique of the Warrior of Light. But it did not take me very long to see that there was more to you than just the Warrior. Your words, in your lovely letters--I fell in love with _her_ as well. You would fill nearly a page with just observations from your day, sometimes little silly stories, and I could tell you were trying to make me smile. You were trying to bring me peace, because you were, you are such a gracious person. I could probably recite some of those lines, from having reread them so many times. And were I to forget, I still have them saved away.”

She blushed. “You still have my letters? I--I wasn’t able to keep yours.”

Aymeric smiled. “Every one. So, yes, I love you as the Warrior of Light. But I love you because you are Summer Ruby.”

Her eyes watered. “I do not deserve you, Aymeric.”

“Nor I you.”

Summer Ruby gasped softly. “Don’t say that!”

“I know it is not true, my love. But there is a voice that lives in the back of my head. It sounds like I do after about three bottles of wine from the cellar. It is a bitter and biting voice, and it likes to remind me of all of my failings and shortcomings and how everything I do feels like a lie.” He coughed and grimaced in pain. “I know the voice is wrong. But I cannot ignore it. And so when you told me about... About your affairs, the voice said ‘of course she would cheat on you. You don’t deserve her, of course she would have to go elsewhere’.”

“I didn’t _want_ to!”

“I know.” Aymeric swallowed. “But to hear your truth, it was... I couldn’t take it, Summer. You were just confirming everything that my doubting voice kept hissing into my ear.”

“Oh, Aymeric, I didn’t--I didn’t know you were suffering. I mean, I know you still have nightmares, but...”

“We have failed each other in our held tongues.”

She felt a fresh tear trace down her cheek, but did not move to wipe it away. “We are still here, Aymeric. We still have time.”

He nodded, but looked away. She thought of the day previous, of the sheer madness that they had thrown each other into. She sighed.

“Aymeric, I must ask. Why did you not tell me that you were having Zenos arrested?” Summer Ruby asked. “I could have warned you about--about the agreement we made.”

“I acted in anger,” Aymeric said, eyes still averted to the window. “I am not too proud to admit that. And I am still angry with you. And with him. But my anger has not accomplished anything. It has only made a bigger mess of things.”

“Would you really have had Zenos executed?”

“That was the plan, yes,” he said. “With him out of the picture, I could work on forgiving you, could move on without having to worry that you were going to run off to see the man again.” He frowned and looked at her from the corner of his eye. “Because you _are_ going to see him again, aren’t you. Despite our heartfelt pleas to each other, you will still go to him.”

“I--” She hesitated, considering her words, knowing how much weight each one carried for him. “I have to, Aymeric. I was not exaggerating. There is _something_ that draws Zenos and I together. And I will not be able to be free of him until we resolve whatever that thing is.”

Aymeric’s voice was tense. “And what if that resolution makes you want to keep him with you, rather than drive him away?”

She had considered that, of course. What if her connection with Zenos was something that she--that they--did not want to break once they had discovered its cause? “Then, that is just something we will have to work through together, love.” She stroked his cheek. “I need you on _my_ side, Aymeric. But I--I--” Her lips suddenly felt dry, and she quickly wet them. “I need you to understand that I may need Zenos to be on my side as well.”

He turned his face back to her and stared, inhaling and exhaling slowly, still wincing slightly at the crest of each breath. Aymeric’s eyes watered. He whispered: “Please don’t leave me, Summer Ruby. Please.”

“I’m not going to leave you. I swear to you, Aymeric.”

There were tears streaking down the sides of his nose now, and he hiccuped in pain. “Then what about-- _him_??”

“Oh, oh--” She pressed her palm lightly to his chest and murmured a healing spell. His stuttering breath calmed. “My beautiful fool.” She wiped at his tears with her free hand. “My heart belongs to you, Aymeric de Borel. It has since we met at Camp Dragonhead. Whatever happens with Zenos, that will not change. Will you still love me?”

He swallowed, grimacing in discomfort. “I will.”

“I know... I know it is cruel of me to ask such things of you, my love. I would have been completely happy had Zenos never shown up in our home after I returned from the First. But he did.”

Aymeric’s voice dropped to a near whisper: “Do you love him?”

Summer Ruby blinked and shook her head. “No. But...” She considered the wording. “Neither do I hate him. There is more to Zenos yae Galvus than that murderous monster we faced in Ala Mhigo.”

“You seek to redeem him?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think he can be, not entirely.” She brushed her fingers through his bangs. “But I think there might be some hope for him. Some place for him that isn’t just a shallow grave. He has strength and skill and... and...” Her thumb traced the line of his brow. “There must be a better purpose for him.”

“It would not be safe to have him here in Ishgard. What if you lose control of his leash?”

She blushed and shook her head. “It’s not like that.”

“Not in your viewpoint.”

Summer Ruby continued to stroke at his skin, her other hand pressing another healing spell into his chest. “Zenos cannot be killed, Aymeric. You can cut him down, but his soul is tethered to this realm, now. He will just come back. He has to be... managed.”

Aymeric frowned pensively. “And now, due to my unchecked choler, he is Ishgard’s problem. The rest of the Alliance will receive word of what happened here last night. They will know Zenos is in the area. They will come to chain him and put him to the sword, just as I did.”

“They will _try_ to.” At his curious look, she sighed. “Our armistice only applies to Ishgard. The other nation-states are not protected by it. Sure, I can chase after him--he’d love that--and try to keep him from causing trouble elsewhere in the realm. Or I can just... keep him on a leash in Ishgard, as you put it.”

Her husband’s frown lingered. “Do you think his love for you will be enough to keep him at heel?”

“He doesn’t love me,” she said, disliking the sharpness in her tone.

“You don’t think so?” Aymeric stared up at the ceiling. “I saw how he looked at you at the trial. He cared not for anyone else in that building. Just you.”

“He’s just obsessed with me. It isn’t love. He can’t love.”

Aymeric’s gaze shifted to her, and his hand raised to press over the one resting atop his heart. “That is a misfortune, isn’t it. To be unable to love. To be damned to be a monster.”

She nodded. “It is.”

“I still... I still hurt from what you did, Summer. But I don’t want to be angry at you.” He swallowed. “I hate it. I just want to love you, and to put my faith in you, that the Fury and the Light will guide you to the right path, even if I am too simple a man to see where the path is taking you.” He grimaced. “When you lay with him again, don’t tell me. I don’t need to know about it. I just need to know that you are alright. And I need to know whatever your plans are with the man. If he is going to be in Ishgard more frequently, I need to know. The guard needs to know. Just... tell me.”

She nodded again slowly. “We will work on it, together. Lord Commander and Warrior of Light. Husband and wife.”

A little spark lit in his lovely blue eyes. “Ah, my wife. Do something for me.”

“Yes, my husband?”

“My armor is over on that stand. There should be a little pouch in the coat. Could you bring me that?”

“Of course.”

When she returned with the small felt pouch, Aymeric had managed to work himself into a seated position against the wall. The effort had taxed him, and he breathed heavily until she healed him again.

“Not long,” he gasped, taking the pouch. “They’ll be back soon to put me under again.” When he saw the distressed look in her eyes he shook his head. “No. It’s okay. I will be fine in a day or two. Let me just have this moment with you, my love.”

He tugged on the cord keeping the pouch shut, and two rings fell into his palm. Aymeric was quiet as he turned one of the silver bands over.

“I, um--I noticed the other day that the clasp on the chain you were wearing your band on had broken. So I thought--” He flustered and faltered in his words. “I took it and had it resized.” Aymeric looked at her. “May I?”

Summer Ruby gasped softly and held out her left hand.

“Beloved,” he whispered as he slid the ring onto her finger. “Hear my words, mark my plea.”

She whispered in return: “Make thy home in me.” Summer Ruby took the other ring and slid it onto his matching finger.

“Does it fit properly?”

She flexed her fingers and nodded. “It does, yes. Thank you, Aymeric.”

He kissed her fingertips. “Summer, when I am released, I want to have a banquet and invite the leaders of Ishgard. Perhaps for the feast of Saint Roelle.” He laced their fingers together. “And I want to go public. I want to tell them who we are.”

Her brows raised in surprise. “You do?”

“I do.” He took a shaky breath. “Would you object?”

Summer Ruby shook her head quickly and leaned in to kiss his forehead. “No. I believe that would make me very happy, Aymeric.”

He smiled wearily and sank back into his pillows with a noise of discomfort. “Good. I am so very glad to hear that, my love.” Aymeric closed his eyes and sighed. “I will… consider the matter of a guest list until my release. And you need a new dress.”

She laughed softly and stroked back his hair. “Maybe I just need a new coat.”


	24. With Me Tonight

On the third morning after his defeat at the Tribunal, Aymeric was released from the infirmary. He was given strict orders by Captain Whitecape not to get into any more fights any time soon. Doubly so for any sort of tussle with the Warrior of Light.

“Go to the forelands and fight bears or something, but leave the Warrior of Light out of your business,” he said.

 _Easier said than done_ , he mused pleasantly as he carefully pulled his armor back on. It was not that he wanted to get into a fight with his wife, far from it, but more he wanted to get as close to her as he possibly could. He longed to hold her in his arms and feel the heat of her skin against his.

Estinien was waiting for him once he left the infirmary. The dragoon still had a brace on two of the fingers of his left hand--to prevent further mishandling--but otherwise looked to be fully recovered from his share of the fight at the Tribunal.

“Good morning, Lord Commander,” Estinien said in a polite tone. Aymeric shielded his eyes against the morning sunlight and squinted up at his friend.

“Good morning, Estinien.” He gestured with his free hand. “How are you doing? Well enough?”

“I’m fine.”

“You could be on fire and you would still claim to be in good health,” Aymeric said. He chuckled carefully, but was relieved to feel no pain at the motion. Estinien tilted his head and looked him over.

“And you? I didn’t think Whitecape was going to let you out of there for fear of running into thy lady.”

“He meant well.” Aymeric lowered his hand and looked around. “Speaking of which, do you know where she is? I mean, I know I sent no word ahead of my pending release, but...”

Estinien gave his back a gentle pat as they crossed over to the Congregation. “What, am I supposed to be keeping an eye on the Warrior of Light now?”

“Well--no--”

“She has stayed at home much of the last two days. Zenos yae Galvus made a bit of a show of leaving in the first evening after his trial, and has not been seen in the area since. She more than like knows where he’s gone, if that is an issue. The only time she’s left thy house since then was to go the home of Ser Orage, to visit thy son.”

“So, you have been watching.”

Estinien shrugged. “Not much else to do right now.”

“Thank you, my friend.”

“Think nothing of it. I consider her a friend as much as you.” He watched as Aymeric unlocked the door to his office. “Are you not going home to see her?”

He lowered his voice. “Perhaps at lunch. As much as I would like to retreat to her arms for the remainder of the day, I would be remiss to neglect my work for such comforts.”

“Don’t overwork yourself, Aymeric,” the dragoon said, a bit of a tease in his tone. “No one expects you to be functioning at full speed so soon after getting throttled by the Warrior of Light.”

Aymeric grimaced at the stack of papers waiting for him on his desk. “Perhaps I can use it as an excuse to avoid meetings for a few days?” Estinien snorted back a laugh.

“Just be sure to clutch your breast and look pitiful whenever the House of Lords comes calling.”

Aymeric de Borel was dedicated to his work and his people, but he would be lying if he said that he wasn’t itching to abandon his office entirely by the time the bells chimed the mid-day hour. He had spent the latter half of the morning fielding various members of the Houses who wanted to politely inquire about his health and wellness and by the way had he gotten around to reading their request yet? When the bells rang, he dodged out of the Congregation and made his way home. If anyone were to protest, he could just say he wasn’t feeling quite up to speed just yet. It would not have been a lie.

He was a touch surprised to find a figure loitering on the front step of the Borel manor. She stood, back to him, ears tucked down underneath a cloak.

“Summer!” Aymeric called out her name, happy to see her. His wife looked over her shoulder, reflecting his smile.

“Hello, dear,” she said. “Escaped from your duties already?”

“Ah, well, for lunch at least. The rest of the day remains to be seen.” He unlocked the front door and pushed it open. “It’s good to see you out and about, though.”

Summer Ruby brushed through the open door, lowering the hood on her cloak as she did so. “Aren’t you going to ask what I was doing?”

He hesitated as he followed her inside. “You’re not dressed to get into… mischief.” Aymeric pushed the door shut. “At least, I don’t think you are.” He swallowed. Of course she would know he wondered where she had been. But, he would have wondered regardless--he _cared_ about what she did during her day. He hated the thought of her bored and restless at home.

“I went out shopping,” his wife said. He gently took the cloak from her hands to hang it up near the door. “Found some lovely fabric for a new dress. Ser Orage said he could have it whipped up in time for your dinner feast.”

Aymeric smiled. “Oh? I look forward to seeing you all prettied up. Not that you don’t look lovely in your adventuring gear or your housecoat.”

“Smooth recovery, dear.” She stooped to unlace her boots, and Aymeric let her hold his arm to keep her balance as she wiggled out of the first. “After shopping I went to the cathedral for the morning prayers.”

“Ah, yes, of course.” That did explain her ears being painfully squashed down under the cowl. “Anything interesting today?”

She worked off the second boot, and then put them on a rack to dry. “The priest read a lecture on the Fury and the church’s views on justified anger.” Summer Ruby cocked a dark red brow at him. Aymeric gave a weak chuckle.

“Imagine that, the Lord Commander of the Temple Knights being a bad example to the people.” He sighed. His wife looked at him silently for a long moment, her expression reserved. Then she reached and patted his elbow.

“Well, after the feast, I’m sure they’ll be able to get another lecture or two out of your scandalous behavior.”

“Scandalous!” he echoed with a huff as she made her way down the hall. “It’s not like we coupled on the Tribunal floor!” Aymeric rubbed at a lingering spot of tenderness on the right side of his ribcage. “Though, I imagine that would have been nearly as painful on that stonework.”

“Well, I should imagine we’ll have to deal with the question of how we could fight each other if we were espoused.”

Aymeric gave another huff. “That isn’t any of their business. Truthfully, knowing that I am your husband isn’t any of their business, either, but our lovely little secret being out will at least reduce the amount of gossip generated by you coming and going from our home.”

Summer Ruby smiled. “They’ll just find something else to gossip about.” She sighed. “Like Zenos.”

“Yes, like Zenos.” Aymeric was surprised that the man’s name did not bring an immediate twinge of ire to the forefront of his mind, merely an irritated flutter in the shadows of his thoughts. “You know, I crossed paths with Lord Francel on my way to the Congregation this morning, and he made mention of a ‘Garlean brute’ who did an impressive amount of grunt work in the Firmament a day or two ago. Wondered if I knew whether or not he planned on coming back.”

They stopped in the doorway to their bedroom, and Summer Ruby hummed as she helped him out of his armor coat. “Oh, yes, that was my doing.”

“Was it? How did you manage to make Zenos yae Galvus _work_?”

“It was after the trial combat. I was irritated with him. Told him to make himself useful.” She shrugged as she carefully draped his coat on its stand. “I didn’t think he would actually go and do anything. But, he did. Hauled stone for three or four bells, from what Lord Francel said.”

Aymeric squinted, trying to imagine the towering Garlean trudging among all the commonfolk working on the Restoration project. “Well, I’m sure he was strong enough for such a task.” He handed his gloves to her, watching with an amused smile as she returned each piece to his armor stand. “But, he left the See, didn’t he?”

“Yes.” Summer Ruby ran her fingers down a length of royal blue fabric. “He didn’t feel comfortable being out in the open here. Too many eyes upon him.”

“Well, at least he isn’t completely obtuse,” he said. “Though, I would have thought he was used to being scrutinized. You know, being a prince and all.”

She tipped her head to the side, her ears curling downwards ever so slightly. “He isn’t really the sort for the limelight. Not everyone is.” She returned to his side and ran her dark fingers down the front of his breastplate. “You know how that feels, right? You’re in the position of power so you can get something productive done, not because you want the spectacle. And Zenos isn’t even an engaged enough man to really want the position of power. All it got him was… easier access to his hunt.”

Aymeric considered her words as he continued to undress. “I suppose that is true. I just--” He stopped with a frown. “It is difficult to think of Zenos as a man and not a monster.”

Summer Ruby’s expression at his words was difficult for him to read.. “Monsters can have feelings, too.”

“I suppose so. Do you know where he has gone?”

“Not precisely. We did not speak directly before he departed from Ishgard.” She poked his nose lightly and smiled. “But I have a pretty good idea of where he probably is, so you don’t need to worry. He’s off minding his own business, most likely where he usually goes to mind his own business.”

“And that is…”

She just tapped the side of her nose and winked at him. “You don’t need to know. Leave the man a little bit of privacy. Besides, this way you won’t have to lie to the Alliance when they come headhunting for Zenos.”

Aymeric sighed. “Well, you are here and he is not, so I suppose I have no reason to complain about that right now.”

When he had shed the layers of his armor, his wife bundled him in his housecoat and led him to the dining room. The servants were waiting to put food out.

“I told them to expect you,” she said. He blinked.

“You did?”

She nodded, a fond smile gracing her features. “I suspected that you would come home by the mid-day bells. You were still rather stiff this morning.”

“I’m nearly better.” He sat in his usual high-backed seat. She sat across from him at the table. “Thank you though, love.”

She smiled at him across the table. “My pleasure.”

Three days later was the celebration held by the Church for Saint Roelle, and with it the customary feast for the lords of the High Houses held in the Vault. It was normally sponsored by one of said houses, but this time Aymeric stepped in and claimed sponsorship. He knew he didn’t have to, but he wanted to draw a bit of attention to himself all the same. He wanted to have the attention of those better men and women.

He arrived at the Vault alone, as was his custom for such events. Passing through the entry doors still briefly made him feel out of sorts. There were too many uncomfortable and painful memories attached to the place for him to want to be within the old stone walls. He told himself this would be the last time he had to attend one of these banquets alone. In the future, he could bring his wife, were she willing.

The thought of his warmed him as he shook hands with various attendees on his way to his appointed seat. Aymeric smoothed down the front of his coat as he sat in the Lord Commander’s seat. The chair to his left was vacant--it always was. He continued his polite greetings to whomever stopped by his table, trying not to let his gaze drift to the entryway too frequently. He also tried to avoid the hungry-eyed gazes of a few of the daughters of the houses that were in attendance with their parents. This had always been an awkward thing, even before he had begun to court the Warrior of Light. 

It would be a relief, he thought, to cast off this pleasurable burden of secrecy that he had carried the last two and a half years. 

The last of the guests arrived and took their seats, all in a careful, particular order. Aymeric was glad for the familiar face of the young Count de Fortemps sitting at the seat to his right, along with his father. The house Fortemps was like family to him, and to his wife as well. This was no accident, of course, as the sponsor he had some say in the seating arrangements and had made sure that the members of House Fortemps were seated within a comfortable distance. Emmanellain was seated to the left of the empty chair and already trying to get a second glass of wine from the sommelier. 

Aymeric stood and did his proper duty of thanking those gathered for attending the feast, and read the usual prayer to the Fury and request of blessing to the saint being honored. He could probably recite these things in his sleep, as over the years Ishgard had garnered an ever increasing number of saints that needed to be honored in such a fashion. Still, he pretended to read everything off a little piece of paper that he extracted from his coat. In reality, the paper held only a few words penned in his wife’s familiar handwriting.

_I love you. Do you remember that night at the inn? I knew I loved you then._

He hoped he didn’t smile too inappropriately when he recited the prayers to those gathered. He traced his thumb over the letters, and wondered if anyone was observant enough to notice the silver band on his left hand. If they were, they were too polite to interrupt the sacred duty for scandalized proclamations.

When the recitations were complete he returned to his chair. Aymeric glanced at the entryway, but aside from a Temple knight standing guard the doorway was unoccupied.

“You’re getting quite good at that, Ser Aymeric,” Artoirel said pleasantly as he leaned out of the way of the sommelier. “I admit, I'm a touch nervous about having to do it myself. Still getting used to all of these duties.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll do fine when it is your turn,” Lord Edmont said in an encouraging tone. “You just read the appropriate prayers and look somber. No trouble to it.”

“Thank you, Father.”

He chuckled and tapped his fingertips on the table between them. “Yes, Lord Edmont is quite right. You will do just fine when it is your time to lead the show.”

Aymeric noticed the knight at the entryway turn as the door opened. From the angle he was seated at, he did not have a clear view of the entrant, but he would know that color blue anywhere. Eventually, his wife stepped into his line of sight while talking to the knight. She knew the man, and was smiling gently at him as he confirmed her attendance on the list he had been given.

Clearing his throat, Aymeric got to his feet. “Ah, I see our last guest has arrived for the evening.”

“Fashionably late, old girl!” the youngest of House Fortemps crowed across the hall. Summer Ruby smiled, but her gaze set on Aymeric and not the lordling.

Those in the other tables paused in their conversations and wine consumption to look toward the door. Summer Ruby stood, straight backed and as fearless as she was when facing down a primal. Aymeric felt his pulse quicken at the sight of her. The bodice of her house blue dress was trimmed in gold thread and brocade, and her skirts flowed to the floor and a fulm behind her on the stone floor. She looked immaculate and beautiful, hair piled on her head around her ears, lips and eyes carefully painted.

Aymeric would not lie--he wished that everyone else would just disappear because in that moment he desperately wanted to get her out of that dress. That would have to be saved for later. Something to look forward to, beyond the present moment.

The other guests murmured among themselves as Summer Ruby gave a polite curtsy and made her way between the long tables to where Aymeric sat.

“Is that the Warrior of Light?”

“It looks like it is. What is she doing here?”

“She doesn’t have any business being invited…” 

One of the lords voiced a protest in Aymeric’s direction. “Lord Speaker, we understand that the Warrior of Light is a stalwart ally of Ishgard, and ward of House For--”

“Her name is Summer Ruby,” Aymeric said, trying to keep his voice calm. “Do you not even care enough to know the name of our savior, Lord Haillenarte?”

The lordling sputtered. “Of course, Lord Speaker.”

He held his hand out to Summer Ruby. “And as the Lady of House Borel, she has just as much right to be here as anyone else in attendance.”

He kept her gaze, taking a relief in the smug smile that came to his wife’s face at the stunned silence in the room. She took his hand and allowed him to lead her to the seat next to him at the table.

“I’m sorry, Ser, I’m not sure we heard you correctly. The Warrior of Light is...”

He helped her move her chair into place. “My wife. The Viscountess Summer Ruby de Borel is my wife.”

“It’s a pleasure to dine with you all tonight,” Summer Ruby said in a smooth tone.

“When did _that_ happen?” one of the men of House Dzemael hissed in disbelief.

“More than a year ago, now,” Aymeric said. He smiled, watching as a few of the wives in attendance shook their heads in dismay. This would work out to his advantage, he thought. He had grown weary of having to field the advances of hopeful young ladies who had barely had their growth spurt. How could those girls possibly hope to compete with the woman who had captured his fascination weeks before they had even had the chance to meet in person? There was no competition there. He took her left hand and kissed her fingers, just below the silver band with its deep blue sapphire. Aymeric looked at her smiling face and felt his heart flutter. No, it did not really matter what she had done with the Garlean. He still loved her all the same. The smile she granted him in return assured him that the feeling was mutual. Her heart belonged to him, and no one else.

The lords and ladies of Ishgard slowly eased back into their conversations, but Aymeric was well aware of the occasional glance being shot in his and Summer Ruby’s direction. He did not care. Their secret was finally out, and he felt the release of an immense weight from his shoulders.

“You look beautiful,” he murmured to her as a steward brought a glass for her and poured.

“You said that before you left to come here,” she whispered back in a teasing tone.

Aymeric chuckled. “Yes, and I did not want you to forget. My opinion has not changed in an hour.”

She laughed and patted his cheek. “That’s good to hear, love.”

“You look as fancy as a princess in a painting!” Emmanellain interjected himself into the conversation. “Never seen you that gussied up before, Summer.”

“First time for everything, Emm,” Summer Ruby said. “Did I miss anything interesting?”

“Beyond your arrival? No, just Lady Durendaire nearly tripping on the hem of that old frock of hers.”

“You are indeed a lucky man, Ser Aymeric,” Artoirel said lowly toward his ear. “Who would have thought that the weary adventurer we welcomed into our home would clean up so nicely?”

“I did,” Lord Edmont said in a pointed tone. “You were too hasty to judge a book by its cover, my son.”

The young Count flustered softly and shook his head. “Yes, and I apologized and we moved on past my uncouth manners, Father.” 

The elder Fortemps chuckled. “Don’t be cross over it, Artoirel. You never stood a chance with her.”

Aymeric smiled as Artoirel made an embarrassed noise and picked up his glass of wine. He was well aware that the younger man had made eyes after the lovely Roegadyn woman once he had gotten over his initial misgivings. He could of course not blame the man--Aymeric himself had already been thinking longingly of the woman for several weeks by that time. She had already held his hands at Camp Dragonhead and cast levin into his veins. He had already been hopelessly smitten with her. 

The feeling had never diminished, not even in his recent moments of righteous anger.

“Might I ask something, Lord Speaker?” another one of the Lords in attendance spoke up as servants began to bring starting plates out to the tables. “If the Warrior of Light is truly your wife, how did it come to pass that she would fight _against_ you for the wretched whelp of Garlemald?”

Aymeric had been expecting this question, though dreaded it no less. He cleared his throat. “Summer Ruby fought as the Warrior of Light, not as my wife. And the Warrior of Light is a champion of deplorable, hopeless causes.” He narrowed his eyes briefly. “She did save us from both ourselves and the dragons, did she not?”

“That is hardly the same thing.”

“I think you will find it is quite similar, when you look at it more closely.”

Under the line of the table, Summer Ruby gave his thigh a reassuring squeeze.

A member of House Durendaire spoke up. “And what does the Lady Borel have to say for herself regarding the matter?” 

Her hand did not move from where it rested on Aymeric’s leg. She cleared her throat and spoke toward the lord in question. “It is a pity that a duty cannot be fulfilled in this nation without some measure of doubt being thrown upon it. I clearly acted within the Fury’s favor, or I would not have come out victorious against the Lord Commander of the Temple Knights and the former Azure Dragoon. Would you not agree, Lord Durdendaire?”

The Elezen muttered something in an admonished tone before saying: “Indeed. May the Fury be praised for her generosity.”

She smiled and squeezed Aymeric’s leg again. He managed to keep a serious face as he looked at the man who had questioned his wife, but his wife’s hand was so very high on his thigh that he was certain he was going to break decorum in front of the High Houses of the Holy See. Aymeric settled for carefully removing her hand from his leg. He kissed her knuckles before gentle resting her fingertips on the edge of the table.

Summer Ruby glanced at him and murmured: “You’re no fun.”

“I will be plenty of fun when we get back home,” Aymeric whispered. She smirked, and he could not help but return the look.

It lingered the remainder of the evening.

It was late when Aymeric was finally able to make his way home. Summer Ruby left a few minutes before everyone else. She claimed fatigue, but Aymeric knew that she wanted to stop by the Nanny on her way home to check on little Merle. Aymeric himself had to remain until the last of the guests had departed.

Estinien was waiting for him outside, leaning casually against a lamppost.

His friend nodded in greeting as Aymeric pulled his coat closer against the cold. “How did it go?”

“Well enough, I think. Were there any riots?”

“None today,” Estinien said. He jerked his chin toward the stairs leading away from the Vault. “Bit of muttering among some of the nobles, but that’s to be expected.”

“And my wife?”

“We did not speak. I’m not sure she saw me, to be honest. She seemed a bit distracted.” Estinien pushed away from his post and they started down the stairs. “She looked quite lovely though, Aymeric. I don’t think she was half that well dressed for thy wedding.”

“Yes, well. Different circumstances. The Fury is far less discriminating in what her petitioners wear than the lords of the High Houses.”

“Fair enough.” Estinien crossed his arms. “You know, I received a piece of correspondence in the post today. From the Scions, with two fresh linkpearls. One for myself, and one for Summer. Apparently her current linkpearl is not functioning?”

Aymeric considered his friend’s words. “I haven’t seen her with it in some time, to be honest.” He hesitated before continuing. “I half think she’s just ignoring their calls. Even the defender of the Realm deserves a break.”

“Indeed.”

“Where are the linkpearls now?”

Estinien shrugged. “I left them in the package. It’s still in my room at the Congregation.” He cocked his head to look down at his friend. “I can have them left in your office, if you’d like.”

He considered the offer, but shook his head. “No. I would rather leave my wife to her peace while she can grasp it. I’m half surprised there haven’t been representatives of the Alliance in the See already, wanting to have a word with the Warrior of Light regarding what transpired at the Tribunal.”

“Aye. It will happen, soon enough. She can’t do something like that and not have to answer for it.”

Aymeric sighed. “The only person she should have had to answer to for all of that was me. And I botched the matter.”

The dragoon unfolded his arms and clapped a hand heavily on his back. “Fear not, my friend. Everything will work out. It always does somehow, for the Warrior of Light.”

“I hope you are right.” He glanced up at Estinien. “After all, shouldn’t even the Warrior of Light be allowed to have a friend who has made questionable decisions in his lifetime?”

“I do hope that wasn’t a jab at my person, Lord Commander.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “I wouldn’t dream of it, old friend.”

Aymeric was greeted by a faint melodic sound as he entered the otherwise quiet manor. The steward met him and took his overcoat, told him all was well, and then disappeared to the back of the house. Aymeric made sure the front door was properly locked before hurrying down the hallway to the master suite. When he pushed the bedroom door open, the gentle tune met his ears again. It was his wife. She was humming softly, sitting in front of the dressing table, and carefully unpinning her hair. Aymeric let his coat drape over the back of a chair and moved to stand behind her. She paused in untwisting a length of blood red hair to look up at him. When she smiled, it made his heart flutter like it was that first time in Coerthas all those moons ago.

“You were beautiful tonight,” he said. “Absolutely captivating.”

Summer Ruby laughed delicately and got up, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “And you, my dear, had the most charmingly wicked smile on your face.” She coaxed her fingertips along his cheeks. “Did you know that?”

He blushed. “I--I know I was happy.”

His wife chuckled, her thumbs tracing matching arcs along his cheeks. “You enjoyed making all of those important people squirm, didn’t you? Upending their worldview with the knowledge that you, good boy Aymeric, had wed the Warrior of Light without any of them being the wiser.”

He swallowed, feeling the heat on his cheeks increase. “I... Yes, I might have enjoyed that a bit more than I should.”

“Wait until they find out about Merle.”

“Yes, I’m sure--” His reply was silenced as her mouth crushed against his. Her arms coiled over his shoulders, squeezing him with just a hint of the power he knew was there.

“Help me out of this dress.”

Aymeric did not have to be told twice--Hells, even the once was barely necessary. He helped loosen all the little laces that kept her bound in the piles of deep blue fabric, until she was able to wiggle her way to freedom. When the dress had been pulled over her head and delicately cast aside, Aymeric grabbed at her face to kiss her.

“I love you, Summer,” he whispered into her mouth. His pulse pounded in his throat as she leveled her mismatched eyes at him. “You--you are all I need on this star. And I--I don’t--”

She silenced him for a moment with another kiss.

“Be my home, Aymeric.” Her fingers traced over the lacquered enamel of his ear clasp. He gasped softly, surprised at the tears that stung in his eyes.

“Always. No matter what, no matter where you go, no matter what you must do, I will be here when you come home.” He pressed himself into her touch. “Just, come home to me.”

“Always,” she echoed, but there was a tremble in her voice. “I swear, Aymeric, I never intended to--”

Now he kissed away her words. “I know. I know.” He did not want to dwell upon that right now, not when the night had gone so well.

“I love you,” she whispered, strong hands clasping at his back, holding their hearts close. He could feel the wild beat of hers through the fabric of her chemise.

He bound himself to her. “I know.”


	25. With a Boulder on Her Shoulder

There were three days of relative peace in Ishgard before a messenger with a missive arrived on behalf of the Scions. The letter was, conspicuously, not delivered to the Borel manor, but to the Congregation, addressed to Estinien.

“It’s for you,” the dragoon said when he held the letter out to Summer Ruby later that morning. She had stopped by the Congregation to check on her husband, but was intercepted by Estinien before she got that far.

“For me? Why do you have it?” She unfolded the parchment.

He shrugged. “I suppose they believe you are trying to avoid them.” The dragoon smirked. “Which, you are, I know avoidant behavior when I see it.”

“I at least don’t jump onto roofs to get out of a conversation.”

Estinien huffed softly and turned his gaze in the direction of Aymeric’s office. “I haven’t done that recently.”

“What’s this about a new linkpearl? There’s nothing wrong with my linkpearl.”

“Miss Tataru seems to think there is.”

“It works, I just turned it off the last time I returned from the First.”

He rolled his shoulders in a slow shrug. “I can’t entirely judge you for that. I’ve done the same.” Estinien peered over her shoulder. “I have the linkpearl, if you want to have the thing.”

“No, that would just encourage them.” She sighed. The dragoon wagged his bound fingers at her.

“It was but a matter of time before you would have to answer for what happened in the Tribunal.”

She snapped sarcastically at him. “Oh, do you need Momma Borel to kiss your fingers and make them better?”

Estinien blushed and stepped away. “No need to be cruel, Summer.”

She inhaled and let the breath out in a heavy sigh. “Apologies. You didn’t deserve that.”

“‘Tis alright. My fingers are nearly mended. And I know you meant no ill in your jest. Not towards me, at the least.” He cocked his head to the side. “So, will you be going to Mor Dhona, then?”

“I don’t really have a choice. If I keep trying to avoid the Scions they will just come here to Ishgard.” She scratched at the base of an ear. “I wish I didn’t feel like they were something to be avoided, you know? I used to take such pride in working with the Scions.”

“And now?”

She thought. “Did you ever reach a point where you no longer wished to be the Azure Dragoon?”

Estinien sobered. “Were it possible the circumstances that led me down the path to becoming the Azure Dragoon had never occurred, I suspect I would have been much happier. But, had it not, I would not have eventually met some of my dearest friends.”

“That is just as true for my becoming the Warrior of Light,” she mused. “It was not something I asked for.”

“Such is the case for most of our great burdens,” he said. “We cannot all be like Aymeric.” At her nod he touched her shoulder and lowered his voice. “I know the others will tell you otherwise. They will tell you it is your _duty_ to continue to throw yourself onto the pyre for the sake of the rest of the realm. But your only real duty is to your family. Just Aymeric and little Merle, and whoever else you might hold in your heart as kin.”

Summer Ruby smiled at the dragoon. “I never took you to be the sentimental sort, Estinien.”

“Ah, well. It was bound to slip eventually.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “If you’re looking to see the Lord Commander before you head off, Aymeric finished a meeting not long before you arrived, so I’m sure he’s busy mooning about you in his office.”

“Thank you, Estinien.”

Not long after lunch, as per the politely worded yet stern missive delivered to her through Estinien, Summer Ruby teleported to the aetheryte in Mor Dhona. She dressed in her adventuring gear, red coat on top and rapier at her hip. The town was rather busy, with a great deal of adventurers with pickaxes milling about and chattering excitedly about relics and other business. That was, at least, all that Summer Ruby heard before making her way into the bar and then heading to the entrance to the Rising Stones. 

She felt a faint prickle on the back of her neck when her hand touched the door handle. She glanced over her shoulder, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. 

“Oh look, there she is! Miss too-good-for-her-linkpearl!” Tataru greeted her with a loud cheerfulness as she made her way into the Scions’ headquarters.

“You could have sent me a missive directly,” Summer Ruby said with a sigh. “You needn’t involve Estinien in our business.”

“Don’t be silly. I’ve got him wrapped around my littlest finger!” Tataru hopped lightly in place. “He’s very reliable when he feels like it.”

 _When he feels like it_ , she thought with a slight smirk. “He’s one of the best men I know. I trust him with my life.”

Tataru smiled. “High praise from the Warrior of Light!”

Summer Ruby smiled and nodded. “Now then, I’ve been summoned for a scolding?”

The Lalafell sighed and gave a dramatic shrug. “Honestly, Summer Ruby, you knew we were going to call on you! You can’t just kick a wasp’s nest and not expect to get stung!”

“I wasn’t really thinking that far ahead in the moment.” She gestured toward the side doors. “Am I the last one here?”

“You are. They were having lunch in the meeting room, and should all still be there.” Tataru gave her chin a thoughtful tap. “Did you want something to drink before you go in?”

She chuckled. “I’ll save the drink for afterwards. I’m sure that I will need it.”

The Scions were indeed still sitting around the meeting table when Summer Ruby quietly made her way into the room. Y’shtola was absent, her still soul busy on the First. The twins were present, as were Urianger and Thancred. Also present, to her surprise, was Lyse. The little blonde woman was in her travelling gear, and Summer Ruby could not help but slightly flinch at the sight of her. Of course Lyse would be here for this meeting, even though she had somewhat retired from the Scions. The business involved Zenos, and she knew Lyse still wanted to do more than just crack the man’s helm.

“Summer!” It was Alisaie who first called to her. The little Elezen hopped up from her seat and hurried over. “It’s so good to see you again!”

Summer Ruby smiled and stooped to hug the girl. “You look well. I trust you’re keeping out of trouble?”

Alisaie snorted lightly. “Oh yes, I’m quite good at keeping out of trouble. He’s another issue entirely.” She jabbed a thumb over her shoulder in the direction of her brother. She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial tone. “There was a _cute girl_ and he completely botched his attempt at talking to her.”

“I did not!” Alphinaud cried across the table.

“He didn’t even talk to her, so technically he didn’t,” Alisaie said. Summer Ruby laughed softly.

“Well, as long as he hasn’t bought anything ridiculously expensive without supervision.”

“Oh no. He stays put here in Mor Dhona and paces around like he’s plotting something very important.” Alisaie rolled her eyes playfully. “Oh, and he brushes his carbuncles. Do you think girls are keen on carbuncles?”

“I’m sure some are, kiddo. They are somewhat cute for little beasties.”

“Please stop talking about me,” Alphinaud said, resting his forehead on the tabletop. “The two of you are brutal.”

“It’s all in fun, Alphinaud,” Alisaie said as she flounced back to her seat and smacked him lightly on the back.

Summer Ruby scanned the rest of the table. Urianger and Thancred were locked in the midst of some sort of game, scratching letters and numbers onto a grid on a piece of paper. Lyse was sitting stiffly on the other side of the table, arms crossed, a scrutinizing glare fixed on the Warrior of Light.

“Weren’t you a Roegadyn?” she asked when Summer Ruby caught her eye.

“We told you she would look different,” Thancred said. He picked up his flagon and took a swig from it. “She looks almost exactly the same. Same hair. Same coat.”

“You didn’t say she was a _Viera_ , Thancred,” Lyse protested. “That changes a lot of things!”

He squinted at her. “Like what?”

“It means the Warrior of Light will be running around a lot longer, should she avoid getting herself killed.”

“Indeed, the Viera can live more than two centuries,” Urianger said. He pulled the flagon from Thancred’s hand and sipped from it.

“Are you being a bad influence on our scholar, Thancred?” Summer Ruby asked in a teasing tone.

“Oh, no, don’t blame me. That’s entirely his doing.”

“What, so living with you makes him need to drink?”

Urianger coughed into the ale, and Thancred patted him on the back.

Lyse sighed. “What the hells happened to you all on the First?”

“We had another grand adventure,” Alisaie said.

“Which, of course, translates to me nearly dying again,” Summer Ruby said. She sat in a chair that gave her a proper view of the rest of the table and crossed her arms over her chest.

Alphinaud looked crestfallen. “Summer…”

“I got better,” she said. “It’s fine.” It wasn’t fine, but she knew getting into the subject now would only start an argument, and the last thing she needed was to encourage another headache.

“Perhaps we should start our meeting, then,” Lyse said, casting a look at the twins. Alphinaud nodded and cleared his throat.

“Ah, yes, I do believe we should get on to the matter at hand.” Alphinaud looked at a sheet of paper in front of him. It looked like a letter, as it was not in the handwriting of any of the Scions, and the young Elezen had idly doodled several carbuncles in the margins. “Let’s see. Four days ago the leaders of the Eorzean Alliance received official correspondence from the Holy See of Ishgard, regarding events that had transpired just a few days previous. The Alliance passed knowledge of this on to the Scions two days ago.”

Summer Ruby leaned back in her chair, carefully keeping her gaze on Alphinaud. “Yes, we expected that you would receive word of all that.”

“‘We’?” Lyse echoed. Summer Ruby didn’t say anything.

“Thou fought as the Champion of thine enemy,” Urianger noted.

“I am aware of what I did,” she said. She wondered exactly what had been in the messages sent from See to Alliance, and Alliance to the Scions.

“Why?” Thancred wondered aloud.

“Because he called on me to do so,” Summer Ruby said. She knew that wasn’t the clearest of explanations, but offered nothing more. To her left, Lyse leaned forward.

“So, according to the reports we were given, you’ve been in some kind of… protection accord with the crown prince of Garlemald,” Lyse said, her voice tense. “Are there any other secrets you’d like to share with us before we go any further?”

“Secrets kept aren’t always bad things, Lyse,” Alphinaud said. “Some are just matters of personal privacy.”

“And you are not exempt from having kept a rather large secret from us,” Alisaie added. Lyse glared between the twins.

“That was a different sort of matter entirely.”

“I’m married,” Summer Ruby blurted out. “To Ser Aymeric. For more than a year.”

On the other side of the table, Thancred fished out a few gil coins and set them in front of Urianger.

Summer Ruby added: “And we have a son.”

Urianger pushed one of the coins back to Thancred.

A less than pleasant silence descended upon the table. The twins exchanged a look, and Alphinaud subtly shook his head at his sister.

“Is he doing alright?” Alisaie asked. Summer Ruby smiled at her.

“Oh, yes. He’s still teething, but he’s taking it quite well.”

Lyse pinched at her nose and sighed. “Please, back to the subject.” She flattened a hand on the tabletop. “I am glad for your happiness, Summer, but how could you--why--”

“You fought both Ser Aymeric and Ser Estinien? On your own?” Alphinaud piped up. “For… _Zenos_?”

“They were going to execute him,” she said. “Or, at least, they would try to. But we already well enough know that wouldn’t have worked, now don’t we? Even if they had burned his body he would have just found another one to inhabit.”

Thancred frowned. “So he’s an Ascian now?”

“Not exactly. I’ll be honest, I don’t really know or understand what Zenos has… become.”

“Why not just let them cut off his head, then?” Lyse said. “It would at least have gotten him out of the way for a time. We’ve enough trouble dealing with the Empire even in the chaotic state it’s currently in _without_ the prince prowling about and causing trouble.”

“He hasn’t caused any trouble,” Summer Ruby said. _Not unless you count him getting sweet on me_. She rested her right hand in her lap and summoned a bit of aether into her palm. She watched the faint blue glow flicker for a moment before curling her fingers shut. _Are you sure you aren’t sweet on the man?_ No, she thought. There was a difference between ‘being sweet’ on someone and merely having an unexplained connection to them.

“Perhaps not, but Zenos yae Galvus is a man with a tendency to wreak havoc wherever he goes,” Lyse said. “You were there, Summer, you saw firsthand the sort of destruction he caused in Gyr Abania. He tried to kill you several times!”

“But, he didn’t. And I tried to kill him back, didn’t I?”

“Yes, but you did it for a good reason.”

Summer Ruby thought of the man she had gotten to know over the last few months. He was still completely conceited and borderline dreadful to other people, herself included. But she still believed that he had the potential to change for the better. He had toted stone in the Firmament for hours, for no reason other than to help--

 _No, not to help,_ she thought. _To please me_. But, that was some kind of positive growth, wasn’t it? The man she fought to the point of death in Gyr Abania had cared absolutely nothing for the benefit of others. Just himself, his boredom, and his hunt.

“Summer? Are you listening?” Lyse sounded irritated.

“I’m sorry, my thoughts drifted,” she admitted. She cut her gaze back to Lyse as the other woman sighed.

“The Alliance wants a statement from you, regarding your championing Zenos,” Alphinaud said.

“They… well I suppose that’s to be expected.” Summer Ruby frowned. “Though, in truth I was not wrong in doing so. The charges that Aymeric placed upon him in order to have him taken to the Tribunal were nitpicking of matters. His war crimes in Doma and Gyr Abania had nothing to do directly with Ishgard’s well being, and there was no proof that Zenos came to Ishgard to actually cause any problems.”

“Why did he go to Ishgard, then?” Thancred asked. She looked at him and took in his patient, fatherly expression.

“He came looking for me.” She licked her lips. “After he slew Emperor Varis, he came to Eorzea to seek me out. He had heard from the Ascian Elidibus that I had gone to the First, and decided that he would wait for my return. He just… still wanted to fight me.”

“That sounds like intent to do harm to me,” Lyse said.

“He doesn’t want to kill me or maim me,” Summer Ruby said. “Just fight. It is what makes him feel alive.”

“That monster doesn’t feel anything at all!” Lyse sneered. “He certainly doesn’t deserve to feel any kind of happiness or to even feel _alive_!” 

_Who are you to say?_ She pursed her lips and did not retort. She knew that she might say too much if she said anything at all. Summer Ruby thought, wondered if what Lyse said was true. Did Zenos really not feel anything for anyone, not even her? She had a hard time believing that. They were friends now, weren’t they? She did not know how to tell the Scions that, to tell them that she believed something worthwhile dwelt inside the monstrous Garlean.

“It is easy to judge someone whom you know only through their negative actions.”

“When has Zenos yae Galvus ever done a good thing?”

She thought of his hands on her skin, of his lips on her neck, of their aether seeking each other out--

Pain twitched in her head, and she began to feel irritated by the meeting. “He didn’t hurt anyone in Ishgard directly. No one at all.” _Well, Aymeric a tiny bit, on the night of his arrival, but--_ “He went peacefully when arrested by the Temple Knights. He didn’t raise a scene, didn’t draw his sword, and didn’t lash out at the knights. He never attacked any of the citizenry whenever he did make any brief forays into the See, and he didn’t cause any harm to the people of the other locations he has been staying for the last two months. Tell me that those are the actions of a monster that has no self control.”

“Those are the actions of a calculating man who is just taking advantage of your better nature. You can’t put any trust into that monster, Summer!”

“I can if I believe that he deserves it.”

“Then you have let yourself be duped by a monster! You are a fool who is willingly letting herself be dragged to ruin!”

Something dark roiled in Summer Ruby’s breast, and she slammed her palms on the table as she half rose from her seat. “You will be _silent_ , Lyse.” She leaned in, treasuring the way the anger on Lyse’s face faltered into shock. “I will not stand for you, or anyone else in this room, to speak to me that way.”

Lyse sputtered angrily. “Well what do you expect us to say, when you’ve clearly gone mad?!”

“I said _shut up, Lyse_.” Now she stood. “Zenos will not bring any harm to Ishgard.”

“And what of the rest of Eorzea?” Thancred murmured. “What happens when the man leaves Ishgard?”

“He won’t,” Summer Ruby said. “He never goes far, at least.”

“How can you be so certain?”

She was too irritated for her smile to be anything but unsettling to her comrades. “Because, he’s following me.” _He is my hunter_ , she thought. _He doesn’t give a damn about any of you unless you stand in his way._

“That’s well and fine when you are home in Ishgard,” Alphinaud said in a careful tone. “But, what will happen when you have to leave Ishgard?”

The irritation dug its claws in and settled over her left eye, and she struggled to maintain her composure. “And, who is to say I have to leave Ishgard at all?”

Lyse scoffed loudly. “The hero of all of Eorzea is going to just start sitting on the sidelines while everyone else fights and dies? Is that how it’s going to be, now?”

“Perhaps it should be,” said Summer Ruby. “Perhaps I have earned a bout of indolence.” She bristled at their frowns. “Remind me, as the world is so fond of doing, of the men and gods I have slain, of the nations I have freed, of the realms I have _saved_ from the brink of destruction. Remind me of all of this, and tell me to my face that I have no right to choose and stay in Ishgard, to keep my company there, and _not_ go running off the moment another province needs its hand held.”

She cast her gaze to each of the Scions gathered. Alphinaud had the decency to look half ashamed with himself, right hand curled into a loose fist as he stared at the table top. Alisaie had fixed a glare in Lyse’s direction, her teeth bared in a grimace. Thancred, tired and reserved, met her gaze for a moment before diverting his eyes to Urianger at his right. The Elezen’s pointer finger was lightly touching Thancred’s thumb, a gentle staying motion that said _she is not our enemy, there is no need to aggrieve her as such_. Urianger’s expression was clouded with thought. Only Lyse met Summer Ruby’s gaze with unflinching fire.

“You would be abandoning those whom you have previously aided, the causes you have championed, and for what?” Lyse bared her teeth. “To satisfy whatever madness has overcome you?”

 _Madness_.

“Madness?” Her nails clung to the surface of the meeting table. “Is that what it is now, to have my own wants and desires, my own fears and needs? My own _feelings_? I am tired of being told to just keep my head down, be quiet and behave, do as I am ordered, as though I am nothing but a stupid puppet to smile and nod and just do as I am told. As though being the Warrior of Light negates negates me to naught more than a tool of the realm, and that I am not allowed to have my own thoughts and feelings. That I am meant to suffer in silence. I suppose it is madness, for the sword to wish herself sheathed, to choose to fight her own battles.” She pushed away from the table. “So be it. You all have each other. You don’t need me.”

“Now, Summer, just calm down--”

“I will not,” she snapped back. Summer Ruby stepped away from the table, her hands trembling. “I am done here. Do not call on me.”

A hunched over form in a heavy cloak stood from their seat in the bar as she stormed out of the Rising Stones, and then followed her out onto the street. They kept following as she stalked out the western gate, and did not move to stop her until they were more than two hundred yalms out of town.

“Aesta.” A hand rested heavy on her shoulder. “Your aether is piqued. What happened?”

Summer Ruby could not free her hands from the fists they had clenched into. “I should not have to be defending you, Zenos.”

“What do you mean, defending me?”

Tears stinging her eyes, she kicked at the base of a scrubby tree. “The Eorzean Alliance received notice from someone in Ishgard about your trial. And they passed the word on to the Scions, of course.”

“You were fully aware that they would find out eventually. Why are you so upset over the matter?”

“Because they spoke to me as though I had gone mad!” She felt the hot streak of a tear down her cheek, and the burn of the accompanying shame. 

Zenos’ tone was amused: “Have you not? You have taken thy enemy as your confidant, made a place in his bed, and defended him against thy own husband. That does reek of someone having a severe lapse of mental faculties.”

“And yet you would encourage me to continue to do so.”

“Of course.” He tipped his head, and she could see his eyes gleam under the cowl. His hand reached out, thumb swiping away the tear. “This is the far more interesting course of action, is it not? Or would one such as you truly be content to waste away in your husband’s home, bored and complacent to the day to day mundanities? You would never be satisfied with settling for such a life, even if I had never returned from the dead. You would always find a reason to leave Ishgard.” Zenos shrugged. “What harm is there in that reason being me?”

She sighed. “Plenty of harm, Zenos. Obviously. The Alliance will try to retrieve you from Ishgard and put you to death. You know that.”

“Then, do not let them.” He took her fists in his hands, pressing his thumbs into her palms until her grip relaxed. Zenos laced their fingers together, his aether an immediate balm for her nerves. “The Alliance would do nothing to harm their great champion, would they?”

She thought of her outburst at the table, of how it would likely be cast aside as the Warrior of Light just being stressed out and tired. “I would like to think so.”

Zenos pulled her in closer. “And what would you do, O champion of the savages, were the Alliance to send their soldiers to try and arrest me now?”

She looked up at him, mind playing through the possible scenario. “I would feel bad for them, because there would be no reason for you to not cut them all down.”

He smirked. “You would not try to stop me?”

She hesitated for a moment before answering, as she was unsure what point he was trying to make. “If they came at you with weapons drawn, then no. You cannot come upon a man with sword drawn and expect him not to defend himself.”

The smirk widened into a toothy grin. “You would permit me to slaughter them all?”

She thought of what she might do in that situation, were the Empire to send men to try to bring her to justice for the losses she had caused them. Were she to cut them all down with magic and blade, no one would have faulted her for the action. Hells, to think of all the Imperials she had cut down before-- “Within reason, yes. If they threw themselves upon your blade with their own weapons drawn. That is a choice you make when you go into combat.”

Zenos chuckled as he leaned in and whispered into her ear. “Then, you are as much a monster as I am.” His left hand pulled free to grasp at her hip and pull their bodies flush together. “Would you continue to deny it?”

She gasped softly, feeling his aether tickle at her palm. “D-don’t go putting words into my mouth, Zenos! I was just talking about the rules of engagement, not--”

“’Tis alright, no need to fuss over it.” Zenos kissed at her knuckles. “We could be beautiful monsters together, my dear.”

Summer Ruby blushed. “Oh, why do you say such things?” How could he make such an awful suggestion sound appealing?

“I say what I must.” He released her, but remained close. “And tell me, my beautiful bloodied beast, what would you do were one of your Scions to attack me?”

She shivered, despite the heat of his body being so very close. “I-if I were there, I suppose they would have to contend with me first.”

“Good,” Zenos said. He took a step away from her and inclined his head toward the gates of Revenant’s Toll. “Because one of them is approaching us at a rather expeditious rate.”

“Wh--”

“Summer!!”

She cringed at the sound of Lyse’s voice. Under her breath she hissed at him: “You could have told me sooner.”

“I _said_ expeditious.” He muttered testily under his breath: “A hound comes for my hare.”

Lyse caught her breath as she came to a stop a few yalms from where they were standing. “Summer, are you alright? One of the men at the bar said a fellow in a black cloak followed you out and--” She stopped, the mild concern on her face shifting to anger as she looked at Zenos. “Is that an _Ascian_?”

“No, it’s just--”

“ _Zenos_!” Lyse let out an angry cry, launching herself at him, weight behind her fist. He blocked two punches and a kick without breaking his stance. She bounced back a few fulms, and had nearly thrown herself at him again when the point of Summer Ruby’s rapier met her throat. Lyse froze in place, eyes widening.

“Summer, what are you doing--what is wrong with your eyes--” She stilled as a bead of blood pooled on her skin. “Are you _possessed_?”

Summer Ruby blinked. Acting off trained instinct, she had not been aware of her own actions, not until she felt the tension of Lyse’s flesh against her blade. “My mind is my own. Stay your hand, and I will do the same.”

“What is wrong with you? What have they done to you, Summer?” Lyse stepped away, her eyes darting between the Warrior of Light and the crown prince of the Garleans. “How did the Ascians get ahold of you, too?”

“Is that really what you must tell yourself for this to make sense in your pathetic worldview?” Zenos asked, his tone irritable. “Do you really think so poorly of the Warrior of Light’s strength of will? The hero of six nations, and the terror of the Empire, and you do not trust her to be able to make her own decisions?”

Summer Ruby pressed her left hand to his chest. “Zenos, stand down.”

He growled: “I will not.” She could feel his words reverberate in the flesh under her hand. “Let me kill the woman.”

“You bastard!” Lyse raised her fists.

“No,” she said, giving his chest a light push. “You already know she is not worthy of your blade or your time.”

Lyse sputtered angrily as Summer Ruby returned her rapier to her hip. “I think you should leave, Lyse.”

Zenos was warm at her back as the other woman swore and bolted in the direction of Revenant’s Toll. He made a thoughtful noise.

“Why do none of your so-called allies address you by your given name?”

“Oh.” She blinked at the oddness of his question, especially since he frequently called her by a nickname of his own devising. She felt her pulse drop with the distraction. “I don’t know. They never did when I was still a Roegadyn, either. Even--even Aymeric doesn’t half the time.” She looked back at him. “Why?”

“Just a curiosity.”

She touched a hand to her right brow. “What did she mean about my eyes?”

“Mm.” Zenos squinted down at her. “They had a bit of a blue glow to them, from your aether. Perhaps your Echo activated in response to her aggression.”

“Strange. I don’t recall it doing that before.” Summer Ruby looked to the walls of the Toll. “We should get out of here before she brings the whole damn town after us.”

“After me.”

“That’s what I said.” She tipped her head back. “A tactical retreat.”

“Mm.” His arms snared her around the middle. “I can get us out of here in a hurry, if you wish.”

She nodded. “Do it.”


	26. From Spring Unto Summer

His arms were secure around her middle as he took a step backward. A portal opened and briefly consumed them, but Summer Ruby was barely aware of the shadows they passed through before being deposited onto Zenos’ bed at the Gridanian inn. Zenos’ chest was warm at her back, and his arms heavy along her sides. He ran a hand down over the curves of her breasts and belly, and she trembled pleasantly at his touch. It was better than the tremor caused by the adrenaline leaving her body. She had drawn her weapon against one of her allies, and would certainly have to answer for that in time. But for now, bathed in the radiant warmth of Zenos’ body and aether, she found that she did not care as much as she ought.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes,” she said. “It wasn’t as bad as I expected.”

“Good.” His breath was warm at her ears. “I was protecting you from whatever might take interest in your passing through.”

“Oh. Thank you.” She wriggled a bit in his arms, and he relented his grasp enough to allow her to roll over. She did so, gazing down at his handsome face. She expected to see his usual expression of ennui, of that restless, barely contained, violent boredom. Perhaps some restrained irritation because she had denied him a fight. Instead, she found the man with his sights on her, pale blue eyes agleam once she had moved enough for him to see her face.

She settled down next to him on the covers, hand coming to rest on the dark woven cloak that still covered him. She could feel the steady pulse of his heart under her fingertips, just a touch fast. There was something else there, the gentle flow of the man’s aether, curling out in search of her own. They lay in silence for several minutes. Then Zenos spoke, something soft yet resolute in his rough voice.

“Aesta--No, Summer Ruby. I must be honest with you.” He swallowed. “I know it is inappropriate of me, but I must tell you. [ _You have taken my heart._ ]”

Her Echo glossed over the half-growled words in Garlean. She stared at him, and he unflinchingly met her gaze. Cautious, she replied: “Are you sure that you are even capable of such feelings?” Three months or more ago, she would not have believed that Zenos even had a heart to be touched, let alone captured.

“I have known and experienced many a thing, many a feeling. But none of those dark things has ever been like this sensation. Like a silver and gold vine winding around my heart.” His expression pinched momentarily. “And when I think of you, the vines tighten in my chest and I can scarcely breathe for the wonder of it.”

Summer Ruby stared down at him, unsure what to make of his confession. She did not know him to speak in such florid fashion. “And what if I cannot share in this feeling?”

Zenos hesitated before responding. “Then you may leave it to wither and wilt. My soul has lived in winter for decades. I do not doubt that it can survive going back.” He grimaced and looked away. “No, that is a lie. I believe I might perish if I am forbidden from your presence.”

She swallowed. Something rattled in her mind, in her soul, as though they were replaying a conversation she had taken part of before, or some warped version of the thing.

“It would only be fair,” Zenos murmured. “A beautiful ruby, cut and admired and passed from owner to owner, enjoyed only in the passing. Missed forever when it is no longer possessed.”

She pressed a hand to his cheek, but he felt no warmer than usual. “Zenos, what’s gotten into you?”

He covered her hand with his own. “You have.” His eyes widened, white visible around the blue. “I think you did a very long time ago, before we ever met in this lifetime.”

His look worried her. “You think so?”

Zenos gasped as though in pain. “I think I know so.”

Summer Ruby felt him tremble and pulled him in close, pressing her lips to his third eye and whispering soft calming words of comfort. She did not let him go until his shaking had subsided. When she leaned away his expression had calmed, nearly returned to its more neutral state. She settled back next to him atop the bedcovers, and they lingered in quiet again for several minutes.

Finally, her mind wandering back to what had transpired in Mor Dhona, she asked: “So, why were you sitting at the bar? Just waiting for me?”

Zenos stroked his pale hand over her cheek. “I feel like that is all I am bound to do now, Aesta. Just to wait for you.” He leaned in closer. “I know I must share you. I have always shared you.” He faltered, but did not pull away. “Since we first met, I mean.”

“Well, I was already married to Aymeric by the time I went to Gyr Abania.”

His eyes focused on her chin for a moment. “Yes, just so.”

“Are you really alright, Zenos?”

“I’m fine.” He drifted closer, breath warm against her upper lip. “There are just times where I long to touch you. In much the same was I used to long to draw your blood in battle. It is so strangely similar an evocation.”

“You are an intense man.”

Zenos made a noise of agreement in this throat, his lips gracing hers in a delicate touch. “I wanted to protect you.”

Summer Ruby blinked. “What?”

Again he faltered. “At the bar. There was bad energy lingering in the Rising Stones. They meant you ill. Why would they treat their most valued ally in such a fashion?”

She brushed his hair back from his eyes. “They didn’t mean me harm, Zenos. It’s alright.”

“That woman from Gyr Abania did.” He frowned. “I saw it.”

She looked into his eyes, trying to get a read on what he was thinking. She could not tell. As ever, his eyes were not windows to his soul. “Were you looking at their souls?”

“A bit. Mostly hers, when she followed you outside.”

A thought occurred to her. “No wonder Lyse reacted so badly. If your eyes were glowing and mine did too, even if just for a moment, she must have assumed you were doing something to control me.”

“Perhaps,” he rumbled.

“Is that why you wanted to kill her? Do you even remember who she is?”

Zenos hesitated. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you remember when we met. You’ve told me how warmly you hold that memory in your mind. Do you remember when you first met Lyse? It was at the same time.”

His eyes unfocused as he thought. “She was a disappointment and barely registered.”

 _And yet I was a disappointment that night, too,_ Summer Ruby thought. _What was the difference?_

“Does it really matter?” Zenos asked.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “It just strikes me as peculiar.”

“What about us doesn’t strike you as ‘peculiar’?” he asked, tone turning coy. She snorted softly and pressed her lips to his.

“Fair enough.”

[[“You know, I can tell when you’re thinking about him.”

She looked up at the man seated next to her at the cafe. Stray bits of auburn hair were poking out around his mask. He had his head tilted in a way that indicated he was looking at her but thinking of someone else.

“What do you mean?”

“Hades,” Hythlodaeus said in his default effervescent tone. “Your mouth goes all a certain way when you’re thinking about him.”

“Better or worse than it does when I’m thinking about you?” she teased.

“Mm, less of a cherishing grimace.” He took a sip of his coffee. “So, what _were_ you thinking about, dear?”

She picked at her half-eaten breakfast. “Just a concept Hades was telling me about yesterday. For one of his classes.”

“The one about tree roots?” Hythlo made a soft, slightly disappointed noise. “I suppose that’s _technically_ thinking about Hades.”

“You think about him more than I do. Maybe you should ask him out.”

“Oh, gracious, no!” He tittered out a laugh and shook his head. “He would just turn me down again.”

“Well, what do the elders say? Fourth time’s a charm? Maybe you should ask him more than once a decade.”

Hythlo poked at her plate with his fork. “Ah, no, I know when I’m beat.”

“You lie.”

He grinned. “A little.” He perked. “Oh, I know! How about you go out with me? A nice little date. It would be splendid.”

“Hades would have an absolute _fit_ , Hythlo.”

“That’s the whole point, isn’t it?”

Perhaps that could work to her advantage, she thought. Hades could be so very stubbornly obtuse about things… “I’ll think about it.” ]]

When she awoke from a brief nap, her mind swirled dully with masked figures in robes and a vague sense of comforting familiarity. The feeling faded when she tried to focus on it. Summer Ruby heard a faint hum next to her, and realized that Zenos was already awake. He was staring at the ceiling.

“Tell me, my Aesta. What do you dream of?”

She felt the frown pinch at the corners of her mouth. “My dreams? I suppose they’re of a boring, common lot.” Summer Ruby did not want to discuss the sprinkling of peculiar dreams she had begun to experience since returning from the First. She ran her nails lightly along the firm lines of his chest and chose a safer subject. “Sometimes I dream of home, when I’m away for too lengthy a time.”

For a moment Zenos did not respond. His hand moved, fingers catching at a lock of her long red hair and holding into his line of sight. 

“As long as I can remember, I have dreamt a repeating dream. A prophetic sort of thing that I still do not know the meaning of.” He squinted at her hair through his dark lashes before continuing in a near-monotone. “I dream of a great city, finer even than those of Garlemald. And it burns. It all burns. I am there among the desecration of grandeur, but the people in their masks ignore me as they try and fail to flee their demise. All except one.”

She tucked her face against his shoulder as he paused and mulled over his own words. She did not want him to see her face, to see her reaction. She did not want him to be speaking of what he seemed to be speaking.

Finally, he continued. “There is always a woman, clad in a black robe like all the others, and wearing a black mask. I cannot see her face, but the flames stir a draft in their frenzy, and it makes her hair move as though it is a living thing. And it is red, so very red. Like a deep, dark pool of blood.” His fingers pinched at her hair, fanning out the end. “Sometimes she does not move before the dream ends. But she is always looking at me. I can _feel_ her gaze seeping into my flesh. Sometimes, she begins to walk away, but beckons me to follow. She walks away, right into the inferno.” His fingers relaxed, and the frayed lock dropped onto his shoulder. “I never catch her.”

Summer Ruby grimaced, feeling ill. She had seen what Zenos spoke of--she had been there in Emet-Selch’s recreation, she had seen Amuarot burning with her own two eyes. But why-- _how_ \--was Zenos dreaming of that?

“What would you say that means, Aesta? Have you ever dreamt of such things?”

She swallowed. “I mean, I’ve certainly had nightmares before, yes.”

“What do you think of mine? I do not consider it a nightmare.”

She hesitated, picking at the strands of her hair that spread across his skin like fine lines of blood. “I don’t…”

“You are trembling against me. I know you have thoughts to share.”

“I don’t… If I did not think it was impossible, I would say that you are dreaming of the destruction of Amaurot.”

“Amaurot? I am not aware of the place.”

She licked her lips, trying to carefully delve into her own memories from her time on the First, memories that she’d spent weeks trying to bury. “That’s because it no longer exists. It was the city that your great-grandsire originally hailed from.”

Zenos frowned. “The Ascian?”

“Yes. Although, it was destroyed a thousand-thousand lifetimes ago. Or so said your great-grandsire.” She shook her head. “But, I have no idea why you would dream of the destruction of the place. Perhaps because of your connection to Emet-Selch, but I don’t know if that’s possible. Perhaps… I don’t know. The power of the Ascians, of the people of Amaurot, was quite extensive and beyond my own full understanding. For all I know, the old man just placed the dream in your head to drive you mad.”

“An effective implement,” he murmured. Zenos sat up and leaned over her, golden hair pooling on the sheets between them. He stared down at her, gaze ever intense, ever prying. “Tell me something, Aesta.”

She took a small breath. “Yes, Zenos?”

“That woman in my dream was _you_ \--I have become quite certain of this. Why have I been dreaming of you all my life? I didn’t even know you a year ago. So, why have you been beckoning to me?”

It was a question she did not know the answer to, and did not want to ask herself. Nor had she wanted him to ask the inevitable question, because she was not sure how to answer it to his satisfaction.

He was waiting. Still. Patient. Ever the consummate hunter.

“Zenos, to be sincere, I am not sure I can answer your question in a way that you would find satisfying.”

“Try,” he said. He touched her cheek, and his aether flowed out to trace along her cheekbone. “I promise, I will not trouble you if you do not answer me to my liking.”

A puzzling kindness on his part.

He spoke slowly, his fingertips curling in a slow arc along her skin. “I have been waiting so very, very long. Waiting for someone, anyone at all to be able to offer me an answer. Even Emperor Solus feigned ignorance on the matter when I once asked him. Said it was just a child’s nightmare.” Zenos leaned in closer, until she could feel the puff of his breath when he spoke. “So please, _please_ , Aesta. Please tell me.”

Summer Ruby stared at him. She placed her hand over his. “You dream of me because I was there, Zenos. That’s all I can say without getting into a very complicated answer that I don’t even really know the true depth of right now. I only know what Emet-Selch told me, and what he showed me.”

“You were… there,” he said in a dubious, yet thoughtful tone.

“Yes, in so many words.”

She could see him thinking, almost hearing the clicking of gears in his mind as his pale eyes flicked minutely from left to right and back again. Then he blinked, and his gaze focused once more on hers.

“Were you any other person, I would think you a liar,” he said. “But, I feel compelled to believe you.”

“What would I have to gain from lying?”

“Nothing at all.” He stooped the remainder of the distance between them, capturing her mouth with his own. When he broke the kiss it was to press his forehead to hers. She could feel his third eye pressing into her skin. “It would seem I have been following your trail for a very, very long time.”

 _A thousand, thousand lifetimes_ , she thought, and something fluttered in her belly that was neither quite dread nor excitement.

“Zenos, my friend, can I ask something of you?”

“Yes, Aesta.”

She licked the inside of her lower lip. A thought, a desire not her own scratched itself into the corner of her mind. “Would you keep up your hunt?”

The feral grin that sprang to his lips should have been terrifying, but it was not.

“Forever.”

Zenos was quiet at her side when the afternoon light began to fade. Summer Ruby knew he did not sleep--a tension lingered in the parts of his body that rested against her--but he was keeping his restless thoughts to himself. She supposed, at the moment, that it was for the best. When Zenos voiced his thoughts, dangerous words came out.

“It’s getting late,” she murmured.

“Mm-hmm.”

“I need to be going home.”

He hummed again: “Mm-hmm.”

Summer Ruby looked down at him, to where his aquiline nose was pressed against her bicep. “You aren’t going to protest? Try and make me stay?”

“Do I need to?” he asked softly, eyes still closed. “If you truly wanted to stay, you would. I have had my hours with you, and enjoyed them greatly.” His fingers uncurled from the sheets and moved to lightly pass over her hip. “I do not want to cause you trouble.”

She blinked. “What, really? Since when do you care about the consequences of your actions?”

Zenos shrugged and rolled onto his back. “Does it really matter?” He tipped his head in her direction, blue eyes open now and gleaming faintly in the dimming light.

A sigh escaped her. “It is a curiosity, but I suppose not.”

“Good.” His head settled back on his pillow. “I think I might start coming to Ishgard more often.”

“Oh. So you were looking to cause a completely different sort of trouble.”

He grunted. “No. I just… I miss you. Going days without seeing you leaves me feeling wretched. I would rather only be able to see you in passing than not at all.”

“If you think you can handle it…”

“If I find I cannot, I can always return here.” Zenos hummed softly. “You would not like to see me more often?”

She would be lying were she to say she wouldn’t. “I suppose it wouldn’t be a bad thing.” At his chuckle, Summer Ruby sat up and swatted his shoulder. “As long as you behave.”

“I can be the absolute picture of civility and obedience, my dear Aesta.” He smiled. “For you, at least. For you, I can do anything.”


	27. Family

The morning sky was cloudless today, and the sun was piercingly bright to Aymeric’s eyes by the time he finally left the manor on his way to the Congregation. It was an important day, and he knew that as the Lord Commander he should have come in earlier, but he was convinced into supposed tardiness by his lovely wife. Summer Ruby had been clingy when the servant had announced the morning hour, and said clinginess was hard to ignore. How else was a man supposed to respond to waking with his lady love holding onto his manhood? Anyone in the Congregation would understand, should they dare to think to ask.

At least, he hoped so.

It had been two weeks now since he and his wife had gone public with their relationship. Two weeks, and thus far Aymeric had not noticed much in the way of protest amongst either the Houses of Lords or Commons. It wasn’t that no one seemed to care--there were definitely a few Lords that had been hoping to marry a daughter or niece off to him--but that for once they were keeping their muttering gossip to themselves. Perhaps it was the _who_ of whom the Lord Commander had chosen to marry. She was not some strumpet, nor a daughter of a House, she was the Warrior of Light.

But really, she was his everything. She could have been reduced to a beggar in the Brume, and he would have loved her all the same.

One of the Lords of the High Houses--Count Dzemael, he thought--had stepped aside with Aymeric a few days after the feast and asked if he was certain that he had made the right decision in choosing a wife.

“I can only hope that she has made the right decision in choosing me,” Aymeric had said to the nobleman, before politely excusing himself from the conversation. And that had been the last of it from the High Houses. Except for a charming letter from Count Edmont commending him on the feast and how pleased he was with everything and glad to have Aymeric as an adopted member of House Fortemps.

 _Adopted_ , he thought as he made his way to the Congregation. Such a term could have been a bad thing, but Aymeric knew it for what it was. _It means you are wanted and loved_.

A chill breeze from the direction of the Brume made Aymeric pause to rub at his arms. He really needed to get a wrap or something warm to wear over his armor. Looking good for his duties was of little comfort when he couldn’t feel his arms.

As he continued onward again, his thoughts drifted to that day’s duties. There was an investiture ceremony to be held early in the afternoon for a new knight, a courageous young Hyur woman who had been aspiring to advance past being a squire since before the end of the Dragonsong War. She had stood on the bridge with the rest of them during the battle against Nidhogg, and Aymeric was glad to finally be able to honor her duties to Ishgard. It--

He was so lost in thought that he failed to notice the slick sheen of the stones at the bottom of the stairway. Aymeric stumbled and slipped, and the hard ground rose up to strike him in the face--

But stopped as he was grabbed from behind. A hand caught him by the collar and hauled him back to his feet.

Aymeric gave an embarrassed chuckle as he turned. “Thank you, I--” He stopped and tilted his head back. Zenos was staring down at him, face an impassive mask underneath his cowl. “Oh.” He grimaced and turned away, looking down at the slick ground. “I was not aware that ice had formed here. I will have to speak with the guard regarding checking for the issue.”

The Garlean stepped past him. “Always assume there is ice.”

“Ah. Yes, thank you for the suggestion.” He frowned as the larger man paused, head swiveling from side to side as though surveying for something.

“Your people still have much to learn about living in a climate such as this. It is not enough to simply treat it as a protracted winter.”

Aymeric bristled. “It started because of the Calamity.”

“I am aware,” Zenos said. “I read the reports.”

“The Calamity caused by _your_ people.”

Zenos stopped and shifted his weight on his feet. “I have no ‘people’.” Aymeric thought briefly that he saw a faint flicker of red around his right hand. “Only _her_.”

Aymeric said nothing as the other man began to walk away.

“You would do well to remember that, Lord Commander.”

He watched the prince disappear in the direction of the Firmament worksite. He had received progress reports from Lord Francel, lately with the curious note that ‘the Garlean bloke’ had been showing up and silently hauling stone again, and would it be possible to see into looking for similarly talented help? Zenos did not take frequent breaks to gossip, did not run his mouth, did not complain about whatever task had been given him, and was generally far more productive than the strongmen sent from Limsa Lominsa.

 _You want soldiers, Francel_ , Aymeric thought as he carefully made his way the remainder of the distance to the Congregation. _Soldiers, not shipwrights_.

Summer Ruby was relaxing in the early afternoon when she heard a knocking on the manor front doors. It was an insistent, nearly frantic sounding thing that sounded like a small fist trying to burst through the darkly-painted wood. Since the servants were on their lunch break, she got up and went to answer it herself. 

Beyond the door, cheeks nearly as red as her fluffy coat, was Alisaie.

“Summer! Oh, I’m so glad you opened the door. Servants always make me feel awkward!” The little Elezen did not stop to wait and be invited inside.

Summer Ruby bristled internally at the sight of the little Elezen, though she hoped that it was not visible on her face. She was out of practice with trying to school her features into that Warrior’s mask, and did not feel like keeping the mask on right now. Instead she closed the door and helped the girl remove her coat.

“So, what is it? They decided to send you to bother me, to guilt me in their stead?” Summer Ruby did not like the tone in her own voice, but could scarcely help herself.

Alisaie blinked her big blue eyes up at Summer Ruby and shook her head. “No, I came here on my own. The others don’t know that I’m here. Well, Alphinaud knows I went out, but I didn't tell him where I was going.”

“That’s dangerous, isn’t it?”

“I just used the aetherytes,” she said in a cheerfully dismissive tone. “I wanted to see you, Summer. I miss you, and I feel like... whatever has been happening since we returned from the First has made you an unhappy person. Someone hard to get a hold of.”

“I chose to turn off my linkpearl,” Summer Ruby said.

“I know, and I understand that. But, even with you just here in Ishgard, you feel so very far away.”

“You know where I am.”

The girl laced her fingers together and looked at the floor. “I know.” She looked up at the Warrior of Light. “Summer, can you tell me what happened?”

She blinked. “What do you mean, Alisaie?”

“I just--” The girl hesitated. “I know what happened to you on the First was hard, but I... You seem different now. Closed off.”

“Oh. I see. Well...” Summer Ruby paced a few fulms down the hallway before stopping. “I’m tired of being _just_ the Warrior of Light, that’s all. I’m tired of fighting endlessly. I just wanted to come home to here in Ishgard, and take care of Merle and Aymeric and... pretend to be normal. But between the Scions and Zenos, that’s been impossible.”

Alisaie chewed on her lower lip. “I know Lyse upset you, but we do still care about you.”

She crossed her arms, looking away. “Well, you’ve not done a very good job of showing it. You always just push me away into a room and assume that if I just rest for a few hours I’ll be perfectly fine. And on the First that about drove me mad. If Emet-Selch hadn’t--” She clamped her jaw shut. “No, that isn’t any of your business, my apologies.”

When she did not continue, Alisaie murmured: “I suppose you must have been in a dark place indeed if you felt that our enemy was a better confidant than your closest allies.”

“Indeed,” was all Summer Ruby could say. She cleared her throat. “But, you said you didn’t come here because of the Scions. So, what is it you wished to speak of?”

Alisaie hemmed a bit, picking at the edge of her sleeve. Dark red, Summer Ruby mused, very similar in color to the red of the coat she preferred to wear with her own adventuring gear.

“Will you tell me about Zenos? I… I want to understand. You are a logical woman, Summer, and so I know there must be some logic behind what you’ve been doing. Truth to what you told us at the Rising Stones.” She reached out with a small hand and touched the blue fabric of Summer Ruby’s housecoat. “Please.”

She looked down at the girl and felt something clench in her breast. Her eyes stung, and she squatted down to pull the little Elezen into a hug. Alisaie made a soft noise when Summer Ruby began to cry, before wrapping her arms around the Warrior’s shoulders.

“What’s wrong?” she whispered.

“No one else has cared to ask.” Summer Ruby sat on the floor, and Alisaie delicately placed herself adjacent on the cold wood. She wiped at her eyes.

“I want to know,” Alisaie said again.

“It started as I said at the meeting. Not long after he killed Emperor Varis, Zenos made his way to Eorzea. He came to Eorzea, then Ishgard, and tracked me down. He…” She pointed at her eyes. “He can see the color of souls, like Emet-Selch could. I don’t know how; he says it’s because of his false Echo. Either way, he used it to find me, here at home. And in the dark of night he flung himself back into my life with the fervor of a starving man offered a crust of bread. He’s been… coming after me since then.”

Alisaie made a thoughtful noise. “And you didn’t just run him off?”

“That proved to be an impossible task. And, I worried that his drive to interact with me would cause someone else to get hurt.” She smoothed the skirt of her housecoat. “And so I offered him an agreement. I would come out to see him when he called for me, but he had to agree to not harm anyone in Ishgard. Zenos accepted the agreement, and has been surprisingly diligent in honoring it.”

“Why do you think that is?”

Summer Ruby rolled her shoulders. “I don’t know. I suppose there is a sincerity in his desire to see me.” She laced her fingers together, eyes drifting to her palms. “We’re friends.”

“Friends?” Alisaie echoed in a curious tone. “I didn’t think he was capable of such a thing. Reports we received from Garlemald said that Zenos was just an...empty shell. No proper emotion there, just the drive to conquer and destroy.” She sighed. “I mean... what I saw of the man in Doma and Gyr Abania was not particularly encouraging. He just struck me as... violent and...” She squinted. “Peculiar. There was something unearthly about him.”

“Does it remind you of anyone?”

Her white brows drew in as she tried to piece together what Summer Ruby’s meaning was. “Familiar? I don’t know. I’ve never seen someone with such a singular drive to fight. Unless you mean...” She hesitated. “Are you talking about yourself, Summer? I mean, you’re very good at fighting, yes. But there’s usually still some spark of humanity left in your eyes when you’re in battle.”

“Usually.”

“Well.” Alisaie coughed an embarrassed laugh. “You were nearly terrifying at the last meeting, when you told off Lyse. I’ve never seen you so angry at one of our own.”

Summer Ruby sighed and picked at the edge of her sleeve. “I couldn’t help it. She didn’t have any business saying those things to me. Acting as though I am not in my right mind, treating me like I’d become just another pawn of the Ascians.” She grit her teeth and shook her head. “She doesn’t want to understand what I’ve been going through. She doesn’t care, she just wants to be the one to get to take out Zenos this time.” Summer Ruby’s fingers clenched in the fabric. “She is not going to. No one is going to take him down. I will not allow it. As the Warrior of Light and as his friend.”

Alisaie made a thoughtful noise. “You sound like you care about him.”

“I shouldn’t, I know. But he--he died and came back. He is on a second life--a man reborn. Why can’t that be a second chance? I sincerely believe there is potential in him, Alisaie. I have seen little hints of it. I have...” She trailed off, uncertain how to express the physical bond that had developed between she and Zenos without upsetting the girl.

“So, you fancy him, then?” Alisaie said. Too smart for her own good, that girl. “I mean, I can’t think of a reason why Ser Aymeric would go to such drastic lengths to deal with Zenos being in Ishgard unless there was a more personal factor.”

An aghast croak escaped from Summer Ruby. “Quit being observant, Alisaie.”

The Elezen gave a cheeky grin. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. You’re owed your privacy.”

“Thank you.” Summer Ruby thought. Alisaie was a trustworthy girl. She had kept her mouth shut for months now, not telling anyone about her family hidden away in Ishgard. “You’re a good girl, Alisaie, thank you.”

“Be sure to tell Alphinaud that the next time you see him,” she said. “He won’t believe it otherwise.”

She chuckled. “Of course.” Summer Ruby pushed herself up from the floor and then helped up the girl. “If you’d like, I could show you him?”

Alisaie blinked up at her. “Show me--you mean Zenos is in Ishgard right now?”

She nodded. “He has permission to do so, as long as he isn’t causing trouble. And he keeps to our accord with a fervor.”

“Well, if you think it’s safe.”

“He won’t do anything to harm anyone. Not while he’s in Ishgard. The last few days he seems to just be working off excess energy in the Firmament.”

The girl considered, and then nodded. “I suppose it can’t hurt. At the least, I’d be interested to see how things are going with the restoration efforts.”

After changing from her housecoat into something more suitable for going into public, Summer Ruby slipped on her red coat and let the steward know she would be going out for a bit. Then she led Alisaie away from the Borel manor and down into the Brume. The entrance to the Firmament was not far beyond, and she watched with a touch of maternal amusement as the girl gaped open mouthed at the work being done for the Restoration.

“They’ve made so much progress!” Alisaie declared as she looked at a recently restored fountain. “You could scarcely tell that this was just a big pile of rubble a few moons ago. I mean, over there you can, but it’s very well cleaned up here!”

“The people of Ishgard have been putting a lot of time and effort into everything. As well as a variety of adventurers who have volunteered their time to the works.”

“And, what about the Warrior of Light?”

Summer Ruby sighed. “I’ve been busy. And tired, and generally not feeling all that productive.”

“I’m sorry,” Alisaie said. “I’m sure you don’t want them to make too much a fuss over you, right?”

“Perhaps.” Summer Ruby scanned the area, peering over the heads of the shorter races in search of her target. It didn’t take her long to find Zenos. “Oh, there he is.” She led her way around the crowd and pointed toward a more quiet corner. Zenos was standing, leaning against a lamppost and eating a sandwich. Well, most of the sandwich--the Garlean was carefully picking pieces of lettuce out of the sandwich and sticking them back into the paper wrapper. Summer Ruby could not help but smile at the sight of him. “Must be on a lunch break.”

“By the Twelve,” hissed the girl a bit too loudly. “I’d forgotten he was _that_ tall--thought it was just the armor. He’s bloody huge, isn’t he?”

“Well, he’s Garlean, yes. And… a bit tall for a Garlean.”

“I wonder if he got that from the Ascian?”

Summer Ruby flinched. “Perhaps.” She cleared her throat. “I’m going to speak with him for a minute, alright? You can just, you know, stay over here and keep out of trouble.”

The girl briefly stuck her tongue out. “I’m not Alphinaud.” She waved a little hand in the giant’s direct. “Go ahead. I’ll be fine.”

She nodded and made her way over to where Zenos was still eating.

“Why would anyone put lettuce in a sandwich?” the Garlean muttered as she approached.

“Some people like it,” she said, crossing her arms and looking up at him. Zenos blinked, eyes focusing on her long ears before sliding his gaze down to her face.

His lips pinched into a small smile. “You look well, Aesta.”

“Well enough,” she said. “How are you doing? Helping out, staying out of trouble?”

“The little lordling from House Haillenarte called it ‘public service’, but I’ve just been hauling stone again.”

She smiled at him. “You’re doing a very good job at it, from what I’ve heard.” Zenos just huffed modestly and took another bite from his sandwich. His pale eyes darted around the crowd. “Are you alright? There’s not too many people, are there?”

“I’ve gotten used to the press,” he said after swallowing. “The mouthy attitudes of some of the adventurers not so much, but since I’ve been mostly back in the stoneyard I’ve been able to avoid any unnecessary confrontations.”

“There’s hope for you yet, then.”

He let out another soft huff and looked down at his lunch. “I’m just doing this for you. I don’t give half a rat’s arse about these people.”

“I know. I still appreciate the effort. And you’re doing some small bit of good for your public image. Which, yes, I know you don’t care about, either. But, it’s a good thing for me, too.” She offered her left hand, and Zenos immediately reached out to curl the fingers of his left hand against hers. She felt the warmth of his aether even though the leather of his gloves. Zenos’ posture slackened almost imperceptibly at the contact.

“May I see you later?” he murmured.

“Maybe. I don’t know yet what plans Aymeric might have for the evening. But, I’ll let you know before dark, alright?”

Zenos nodded and gently released his grip on her hand. He glanced over her shoulder. “One of your little Scion friends is here.” He took a rather vicious bite of his sandwich.

“I know. It’s okay, she’s my friend. No harm.” At Zeno’s grunt, she continued. “She was just curious about you--well, about our interactions. She didn’t really believe that you were capable of acting civilly.”

He just grunted again and looked at the palm of his left hand.

“I didn’t tell her about… us. But she’s a clever girl. I think she might piece it together on her own.”

“I will trust in your judgement, Aesta,” Zenos murmured. She smiled and patted his cheek.

“Good.” As she turned to move, a thought from earlier in the day pricked at her mind. “Oh, you know, the Temple Knights have an investiture ceremony this afternoon. Probably not long after the next bell. They usually have a little private reception afterwards in their training courtyard. I’m not invited, but that doesn’t mean we couldn’t sneak in to have a peek.”

“Why would we want to do that?” Zenos asked in a doubtful tone. She shrugged.

“It’s just something I’d like to do. You don’t have to show up.”

The prince’s brow furrowed for a moment. “Well. I could probably use a break.”

“Good. Meet me outside the Forgotten Knight in two bells. Alright?”

“Aye.” He nodded, and Summer Ruby made her way back to where Alisaie had perched on a crate.

“Everything good?”

The girl arched a brow as she nodded. “You’ve never struck me as the deliberately obtuse sort of person before, Summer.”

“What do you mean?” She cast a look over her shoulder, but Zenos was focused on the remains of his meal and paying them no heed.

“Just my observation, that’s all,” Alisaie said in a careful tone. “He has such a blank expression normally I can’t help but notice. There’s only one other man I’ve seen light up so much around you, and you married him.”

Summer Ruby opened her mouth to deny the girl’s claim, but closed it again. She thought of Zenos’ admission some days before. “Ah, what can I say? Some men are just more drawn to the Light in me than others.”

Alisaie snorted in amusement. “Drawn to the Light, now, is that what you’re calling it?”

“Oh, hush.”

The girl leaned in toward her. “You’re smiling.”

“What?”

“When you look at him, you smiled.”

“I smile at all sorts of things, Alisaie, it doesn’t mean anything.” She forced an exaggerated smile at Alisaie, and the girl burst into giggles.

“You should use that look when you go into battle!” She covered her mouth and shook her head. “I mean--You are still going to fight, aren’t you? I know you’re tired, but you can’t just _stop_ being the Warrior of Light.”

Summer Ruby watched as Zenos neatly put his trash away in a waste bin before disappearing back into the work crowd. She sighed.

“I know that I will have to return to the battlefield eventually, Alisaie. But I am no longer certain if I wish to do so for the Scions or the Alliance.”

“You can’t just quit the Scions!” Alisaie hissed urgently.

“I can. Others have. Lyse quit.”

“Yes, but Lyse had reason to, she--”

“I have reason to as well,” Summer Ruby said. She reached and tweaked the end of Alisaie’s right ear. “I know that my reasons are not as grand as piecing a nation back together from the dust and ashes, but I still have my own reasons. I am needed here, Alisaie. The people may not still be completely thrilled with me, but my family is. My family wants me here.” _And so does Zenos_ , she thought, but carefully left that part out.

Alisaie kicked her heels against the side of the crate. “But, we need you too, Summer. You do so much good for the realm, and we…”

“There are a lot of good people in this world, Alisaie.” She looked at the girl. “In everything I have done, in all my travels and battles, I have seen that time and again. There are people who are gentle and kind and want only what is best for those around them. And I am only called to battle because those people cannot fight for themselves.” She shook her head. “Eorzea is full of heroes, Alisaie. They just don’t know it yet.”

The girl’s lips pursed in thought.

“I will fight again, yes, but I need to be able to be the one to choose what battles I join. I cannot continue to be a banner-maiden for every new cause that the Scions come across.” Summer Ruby smiled. “It is fine to be held up in wonder, to be a source of inspiration to others. But, I just do not have it in me to be the sword raised in every revolution.”

Alisaie flexed her thin fingers on her knees. “Is it because of what happened on the First? Because of the Light?” She bit her lip. “Did it--The Light is a good thing, Summer, isn’t it?”

“You and I both saw firsthand how too much of anything can become harmful.”

The girl nodded. “What are we to turn to, if not the Light?”

“I don’t know,” Summer Ruby admitted. She gave Alisaie’s shoulder a light squeeze. “I am still trying to figure that out for myself. But my mind is full of the lessons Emet-Selch tried to teach us on the First. I am still trying to make sense of it all.”

“Will you tell us, when you do?”

“Perhaps.” She chuckled softly. “I’m not sure you will like whatever answer I find.”

Alisaie sat up. “I will listen. And I will make Alphinaud listen. And he--Alphinaud can get anyone to listen to him.”

Summer Ruby smiled. “That is true.”

The girl slouched and kicked her heels another time. “Can I at least come and visit you? Having you be away is like getting stuck on the First again.”

She laughed. “As long as you give me sufficient warning, of course.”

Alisaie looked relieved. “Thank you, Summer.”

They returned to the Borel manor. Summer Ruby had tea poured to help warm up the little Elezen. They sat and talked around other subjects--mostly Alphinaud’s repeated failures to get girls to pay him any positive attention--before Alisaie announced that she needed to be getting back to the Rising Stones.

“Don’t need anyone getting suspicious about my absence,” the girl said.

“Am I so great an outcast already?” Summer Ruby wondered.

“No, but they might get jealous if they find out I visited you alone.”

Summer Ruby walked Alisaie back to the aetheryte plaza to see the girl on her way. She thought as she looked up at the gleaming blue crystal.

“What of Y’shtola?” she asked. Alisaie rubbed her arms.

“Oh, well. She still needs to be returned as well, of course. But considering our last interaction at the Rising Stones, no one wanted to bring it up to you.” Alisaie shook her head. “And, what if she doesn’t want to return? She seemed quite happy on the First, with the Night’s Blessed. With Runar.”

“A fair question. I don’t suppose anyone has figured out what would happen to her soul should her body perish here on the Source?”

“No. There’s no way of knowing.”

Summer Ruby sighed. “Well, if--when the situation becomes more dire for her, contact me. I will go and get her, or at least see what her thoughts on the matter are.”

Alisaie smiled. “Thank you, Summer.” She hugged her hip. “And thank you for the tea.”

Out of some unconscious habit, Summer Ruby made her way to the Congregation after seeing the Scion safely teleported away from Ishgard. She was nearly there, passing a gleaming aethernet shard before realizing where her footsteps had brought her. The Forgotten Knight was off to her right, and a glance to the entrance showed an overly tall figure in a cowled cloak. She would have known who it was even if she had not seen the stray strands of blond hair escaping from their cover. Even at the distance of some fifteen yalms, she could feel the faint touch of his aether. Zenos, reaching out gently to get her attention.

“If someone sees you doing that, they’re going to raise an alarm,” she chided him as she approached the figure.

“No one was around,” Zenos said in a calm tone. “You are early.”

“I hadn’t even realized the time, to be honest. Has it been two bells?”

“Not quite.” He pushed the heavy dark fabric back enough so she could better see his face. “But, I am glad to see you all the same.”

“Are you ever not glad to see me, Zenos?”

His mouth pursed in thought. “Only when I can see you but not get closer to you.” A gloved hand reached out and lightly enveloped her wrist. “When I cannot touch you.”

“And to think, some two months ago you only wanted to touch me with your sword.”

Zenos grunted softly, his thumb tracing a slow line over her pulse. “It is amazing how much a man can learn in two months, is it not?” His thumb retreated over the same course. “How much he can remember.”

“I--” She flexed her fingers, and he immediately released his grip. Summer Ruby crossed her arms. “I’m not entirely sure that you are completely aware of what exactly you’re even saying sometimes, Zenos.”

He smiled. “Perhaps I am not. The words are quite prone to escaping my lips when there is no one to keep them otherwise occupied.”

She rolled her eyes. “We are in public. I am not going to kiss you.”

“Someday you will,” he said, a faint ring of hope in his voice.

Summer Ruby cleared her throat. “Come along then, Zenos. Let’s go for a little walk.”

He lifted his cowl back into place. “Lead the way.”

They started toward the Congregation.

“You know, people can still tell who you are wearing that.”

“I am aware,” Zenos said. “However, it makes it easier for me to move about without causing as much of a disturbance.”

She wanted to ask ‘since when do you care?’, but she didn’t. She knew he did not really care about the people of Ishgard or their opinions. He never hesitated to tell her as such. But, since he had begun returning to the Holy See, Zenos had also made it clear that he did not want to do anything that might cause trouble for the Warrior of Light. He had become aware, before she had even taken time to consider the matter, that in the eyes of the people he had become an extension of her. If he did something bad while in Ishgard, it reflected poorly on her.

Summer Ruby wasn’t surprised that he had been able to piece together that connection. She was, however, surprised that the man seemed to sincerely _care_. It made her wonder if his words to her were not so empty after all.

The interior of the Congregation was empty when they entered. Not even Sers Lucia or Handeloup were standing at their usual posts. Zenos paused to lean over the big map on the table, a gloved finger hovering briefly over the Dravanian Forelands.

“Come on,” she called, and he left the map behind to follow her out a side door.

They were met by the sound of cheerful talking and laughter. Summer Ruby led Zenos around the side of a wall, to a spot where they could watch the goings on in the courtyard without themselves being too obvious. 

They watched the gathering of the Temple Knights in the courtyard. There had been an investiture ceremony earlier in the afternoon, and the men and women assembled were celebrating the promotion of one of their own into the ranks. Summer Ruby leaned against a stone wall, arms crossed over her chest, while Zenos remained hunched over, cowl concealing his features. After a few minutes of quiet he spoke: “That woman, the one at the Lord Commander’s side. She’s Garlean.”

“You can tell?”

“Aye. Built like one. What is her name?”

“First Commander Lucia. Uh, Lucia goe Junius?”

Zenos made a thoughtful noise. “Junius... She has a sister.”

“Had one, yes,” Summer Ruby said. She frowned. “I killed her.”

“Ah, yes, during all that business with the Ultima Weapon.” The prince grunted in amusement. “And the First Commander bears you no ill will?”

“By her word, no.”

“Such a strange blessing lays its pall over your life,” Zenos murmured. After another minute of observation, he said: “She is in love with your husband.”

“I know. He is why she defected from Garlemald,” she said. “She would follow him into oblivion, were it necessary.”

He tilted his head, as though trying to see her face from under the cowl. “And this does not bother you?”

Summer Ruby shook her head. “No. Hers is a devotion. She is a knight, and Aymeric’s second-in-command. He trusts her unreservedly, and so do I. When I must leave Ishgard behind, I am comforted to know she is there, looking out for his well being.”

“That is very forgiving of you,” Zenos said. “Quite generous.”

She looked down at the top of his head, and then to the crowd of knights. “Is it?”

“You are a peculiar woman not to think otherwise, Aesta.”

“I--” She stopped and shifted her gaze to the line where her crossed arms met. “Yes, I suppose that contrary thinking is what already caused me trouble.”

“He still loves you,” Zenos said. “Your husband. Even though you hurt him.”

“I know.” She thought: _And I don’t deserve any of the kindness he has granted me since._

Zenos shifted his weight and righted himself. “We’ve been found out. He’s coming this way.”

“Oh--” Summer Ruby scarcely was able to process the Garlean’s words before he was gone, hurried off in the direction of the doorway.

“Now, look what I found, a pair of party crashers,” Aymeric said, his tone jovial. “Well, one of them, at least.”

She eyed the light flush on his cheeks. “Did you go for the good wine this time, dear?”

“Nay--” Aymeric tapped his pointer finger to his lips. “However, the Holy See might have found a few extra gil in its coffers for the occasion.” He leaned against the wall and bumped his armored shoulder against hers. “Dare I ask what you two were doing out here?”

“Just watching,” she said. “I wanted to show him…” Summer Ruby frowned. “I don’t know what I wanted to show him, to be quite honest. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Aymeric said. “I’m happy to see you out in the sunshine.”

“Even though it was with Zenos?”

He sighed. “Yes, even so.” He leaned and kissed her cheek. “I only have one meeting later this afternoon, so I’ll be home before dark today. Barring any sudden snowstorms, of course.”

Summer Ruby brushed back his black hair to kiss his forehead. “Good. I’ll let the cook know to expect you in earlier.”

“Thank you, my love.” He leaned in to give her a proper kiss. There were several whistles and a catcall from the direction of the courtyard, and he jerked away with a guilty blush. “Oh, dear, I forgot about them.”

She laughed. “Go enjoy your celebrations.”

Summer Ruby retreated to the interior of the Congregation after Aymeric had slunk back to the good-natured teasing of the Knights. Zenos was there, standing over the table and staring silently at the big map.

“See anything interesting?”

“No,” Zenos said. “This map is not entirely to scale.”

“Well, no. I’m sure they would need a bigger map…” She stopped to look at him. “Hey, Zenos?”

He glanced up. “Yes, Aesta?”

“I’ve been thinking and perhaps… Perhaps it’s time we had a fight. I mean, like a duel.”

Zenos stood up straight. His eyes lit up, but he gave off an air of caution. “Are you certain? Do you think you are up to such a task? Should we spar, I will not go easy on you.”

“I know.”

His eyes shifted down to the line of her collarbone. “And I cannot say for certain if your _spirit_ is in any better condition now than it was some two or more months ago.”

“I don’t know about my spirit right now, to be honest. I’m not sure when that will ever mend. But, I do think I am ready to face you in combat.”

Zenos considered her words for a long moment before nodding. “Good.”

“Three days from now, after the second afternoon bell. You can pick the location.”

He pointed at the map. “The Forelands.” Zenos grinned down at her. “There is a place there where we can dance in private.”


	28. Give Me Something to Remember

“So, you’re sure about doing this, then?”

Summer Ruby glanced up at Ser Orage as the elder man limped slowly in a circuit around her. “Yes, I am. It’s just a sparring match.”

“Don’t get me wrong, you definitely remember your training,” he said in a careful tone. “I’ve been quite impressed, to be honest. I know that little Esti said you were competent with a lance, and watching you train the last few weeks has shown he wasn’t exaggerating, but…”

“When does Estinien ever exaggerate?”

The dragoon made a face. “When he’s trying to get out of doing something.”

She pulled the training lance from the dummy in the Congregation’s training yard. “Speaking of which, if you are here watching me train, who is watching my son?”

“Ah, my sister-in-law,” Orage said cheerfully. “She misses having a little wee one to dote over, since my boys and all her girls are grown.”

Summer Ruby sighed and shook her head as she continued going through combat motions. Here she and Aymeric had been concerned that some ill might befall their child because of who his parents were, but in reality they appeared to be at higher risk of losing track of Merle simply because they were surrounded by middle-aged Elezen who really wanted grandchildren.

“As long as _someone_ is looking after him,” she muttered. There was a soft tap of boots on the tamped ground behind her.

“Was someone talking about me?” Estinien made a show of dusting himself off.

“What, you couldn’t hear from up on the roof?” Summer Ruby stabbed the training dummy roughly in the gut. Her friend grimaced.

“If that is your form today I think I’m safer on the cupola.” Estinien shrugged and looked from the Warrior of Light to the other man. “What are you doing out here, Ser Orage? Aren’t you retired?”

“Aren’t you?” Orage asked with a wink. “Don’t be silly, Esti, you know we can’t retire. We have to die first. It’s in our recruitment papers.”

Estinien grumped under his breath. “You’ve been out here a lot since my last rout, Summer. Trying to improve yourself?”

“Always,” she said. “When the Empire comes here looking for you, I don’t need to have gone soft.”

“Ah, you would fight to protect me? That is kind.”

She rolled her eyes. “No, but I need to be in good enough condition to catch you and turn you in to the Imperials.”

Orage burst out laughing at the nearly distraught look on the other Elezen’s face. After a moment Estinien cleared his throat, and his expression returned to normal.

“Oh. You’re joking. Of course you are. The Lord Commander would be aghast at such betrayal.”

She sighed. “Yes, I’m joking.”

“Lady Summer has a bit of a melee she’s attending tomorrow afternoon,” Orage reported.

“Is that so? With whom?”

Both men flinched as Summer Ruby took the haft of the training lance in both hands and swung it as hard as she could into the midsection of the dummy.

“With Zenos yae Galvus,” she said. Estinien frowned.

“Does your husband know of this?”

“He will.” She took another crack at the dummy. The younger dragoon made a thoughtful noise.

“Didn’t you tell me when you gave up the craft before that you couldn’t defeat the man as a dragoon?”

“I did, yes.”

“And now?”

She shrugged. “I’m in much better shape than I was then.” Thoughts of her suffering on the First flitted briefly into her mind, and she shrugged a second time. “More or less.”

“Still.” Estinien scratched at his chin. “I am not certain of the wisdom of choosing to fight the man on your own.”

“It’s what he wants,” she said. “It’s the whole reason Zenos is even here in Ishgard.” That was the original truth, at the least. She was uncertain if their interactions had expanded his reason beyond that basic need to battle.

“Will he leave Ishgard afterwards?”

Summer Ruby opened her mouth. She wanted to say _I don’t entirely hope so_ , but knew that was not the appropriate response. “I do not know that deeply into his business.”

The frown lingered on her friend’s face. “All the same. Do be careful, Summer Ruby. And at least let Aymeric know where you’re going.” Estinien looked away. “He worries.”

“I will.” She leaned on the lance. “And I will be careful. I have every intention of coming home safely and in one piece afterwards.”

“There’s no sense in nagging the woman. She’s clearly already made her choice. And I do believe she will be just fine fighting the prince.”

Estinien huffed.

“You should at least take a sturdy weapon, Lady Summer,” Orage said in a patient tone. “Isn’t that right, Ser Estinien?”

The Elezen blushed. “I wasn’t going to suggest she go out there without a weapon!”

“Nay, of course you weren’t.” Orage _tsk_ ed and shook his head. “You were going to suggest she take a training weapon. As though she were some trainee you weren’t particularly fond of, instead one of your _dearest_ friends.” He leaned in a little too closely, and Estinien made a flustered noise.

She looked to the other dragoon. “I would be honored to make use of your weapon, Ser Orage.”

“It isn’t like I’m getting any use out of it these days,” Orage said in a forcefully cheerful tone. 

“Good. I will come by later to pick it up,” Summer Ruby said. She gave him a pointed look. “And to see my son.”

Orage laughed softly. “Yes, of course. I’ll make sure the little blackbird is there.”

The next morning, Summer Ruby sat quietly across from her husband at the dining table. She watched as Aymeric drank a cup of coffee before starting on his cup of morning tea. She felt alert and well rested, for once having not been disturbed by any negative dreams of her own or her husband. She sipped her tea, ears twitching at the occasional crackle in the fireplace.

“Something on your mind, love?” Aymeric added a bit more syrup to his tea before taking a sip. “No bad dreams, I hope?”

She rubbed absently at the skin above her left eyebrow. “Oh, no, I slept quite well, actually. Didn’t you?”

“Like a babe.” He smiled. “Still. If you don’t want to tell me what you’re thinking about, you don’t have to right now. It’s early.”

“Oh.” Summer Ruby lowered her hand to her lap. “Actually, no, I do have something to tell you about, but I am loath to have it needlessly preoccupy your thoughts all morning.”

Frowning, he set his teacup down. “Well, now that you’ve said that, I definitely need to know.”

She picked up a piece of toast, idly making a show of admiring how evenly browned the bread was before picking a corner to bite.

“I was just going to have a letter delivered to you at mid-day,” she said around the toast. “But, now is fine too, I guess.” She swallowed and turned the bread in her fingers.

“Go on, dear. You know I’m listening.”

She knew. Even though he still looked half awake, his gaze scarcely abandoned its vigil of her for longer than it had to during morning meals. He was usually like that, even when they were in the middle of a disagreement.

“So, you know that Zenos first came to Ishgard with the intent of following through with his _hunt_ ,” Summer Ruby said in a careful tone. Aymeric made an uneasy noise into his teacup. “Do not fret, dearest. He doesn’t wish to really hurt me anymore. But he still longs for a good fight. It is the only thing that makes him feel alive.”

“Yes, you’ve said as much,” he murmured.

“And he’s done such a good job lately, helping out with the reconstruction efforts and all. Putting up with all the ‘rabble’ that run about, not flashing back at the adventurers and workers who insult him to his face and try to start a fight with him.” She took another bite of toast. “He’s really trying.”

“Trying to what, I wonder?” Aymeric said. “He doesn’t seem the sort to care enough to try and make up for something.”

“He’s not,” she admitted with a sigh. “I know, he’s just doing it for my sake. He wants… Hells, I don’t know exactly. You would have to ask him to explain it himself. He just wants to do good on my behalf.”

“A noble charge, however selfish.” Her husband smiled. “I would be lying if I did not think of you before making half of the decisions I must during my days. What would you think? Would you do the same in my boots? Will it make things easier for you?”

“Ah, well. I suppose it’s a bit like that. Zenos knows that if he behaves, it makes things easier for me. And he doesn’t want me to be cross with him again.”

“A smarter man than I might have given him credit for,” Aymeric said lowly. The steward came by and poured him more tea.

“So, all that in mind, I thought I might… reward him, in a fashion. Not exactly a reward, but give him what he wants.”

He stared into the surface of his cup for a moment before blinking and looking across the table. “You mean to fight him.”

She nodded. “Nothing too dangerous. I mean, I hope he understands that. Just a little duel. Something to get all that restless energy out.”

“Just a friendly sparring match.” He sounded understandably doubtful.

“Yes. It will be this afternoon. Not here, not in the See. Zenos picked a location out in the Forelands, where we won’t disturb anyone.”

“Are you sure this is safe?”

“Of course it’s not safe,” Summer Ruby said. “I’m going to fight _Zenos_. That is why I am telling you about it, in case something happens.” She held up a hand. “I will try to stop the fight if it gets out of hand, but things happen. If something does happen, I would have you know where I have gone.”

Aymeric frowned as he stared at her across the table. “Thank you for telling me, Summer. Though I would rather it were done some place where it could be mediated, I understand something of a need for secrecy.” He held his hand across the table, and she took it in her own. “Just, promise me you’ll be careful.”

“I will, Aymeric.” She squeezed his slender fingers, feeling just the warmth of his being there. “I promise.”

“My, but you look like you’re ready to hunt dragons!” the stablehand at Tailfeather said. He grinned cheekily. “Miss Summer, I thought you made peace with the dragons for us.”

“Ah.” Summer Ruby glanced back at the length of steel strapped to her back. “I guess old habits die hard.” She watched as the stablehand closed the gate behind her chocobo.

“When will we be expecting you back?” the man asked. 

“Oh, I don’t know. Hopefully not terribly late.” She considered how previous ventures into the woods had gone. “But, if I don’t get back by sundown, just have Irvine go back to the Holy See. He knows the way on his own.”

The stablehand jotted a note down on a clipboard and nodded. “Alright then, Miss Summer. Good luck on your hunt.”

She smiled. “Thank you. I’ll need it.”

Summer Ruby made her way deep into the dark woods of the Forelands. She reached the spot where she had found Zenos and the dead bear months ago. Per Zenos’ instructions, she carried on, nearly another malm into the woods. Here they could meet and do battle in peace, without having to worry about being interrupted or disturbing anyone in the area. 

Still, she felt a small touch of worry in the back of her mind.

_A dragoon leaves no place for fear in their heart_. _Fear only leaves room for fault, for failure._ Estinien’s words from when he had trained her years ago echoed in her memory.

No, it was not fear that flit in her breast as she made her own path through the trees. It was something else, an apprehensive anticipation. She was answering an old invitation, a long neglected call to dance. It was no longer to be a dreaded dance to the death. 

Ser Alberic’s soul crystal was warm under her red coat, nearly an alive thing, stirring in reaction to the disquiet in her breast. She wondered idly what color Zenos would say the aether coming from the stone was. Would it match her own aether, or reflect that of some other dragoon from the past? She would not ask--she knew it was a silly thing to question him on.

The woods around her grew quieter as she progressed. There was still the occasional land-grabbing trill of a songbird, and the soft rustle of the wind through the trees, but beyond that there was a collective silence. It was as though the very aether was holding its breath, watching her, and waiting. The part of the forest was less traversed by man and dragon, and some of the trees were so close she had to find a path around them. Perhaps not the best location for armed combat, but she had agreed to let Zenos pick the venue.

As the quiet thickened, she became aware of something behind her, back off beyond her left shoulder. It was following her at a fairly close distance, enough that she could sense it but not hear any footsteps it made on the groundcover. Summer Ruby frowned and paused, making a show of pulling out her old worn map of the Forelands. She half turned to look behind her, as though checking a non-existent landmark against her map.

Nothing. She stared through the shifting shadows and strained her ears, but there was nothing. No person following her, no random beast having wandered along her path. Nothing at all.

She exhaled. There _was_ definitely something still out there, despite whatever her senses were telling her.

_Perhaps you’re just nervous_.

Ha, nervous about battling Zenos? Of course she was. She had been half dreading this encounter for the last few months. Even as they had become better acquainted with each other, and even as they had become intimate, she remained fully aware of his most basic of desires.

Summer Ruby took a deep breath and exhaled slowly before continuing to her destination.

As the trees began to thin again, she realized that whatever had been following her had ceased to do so. She sighed and rubbed her forehead. Perhaps whatever it had been had sensed Zenos and thought better of pursuing her as some variety of prey. She had already been claimed by a far more dangerous predator.

The woods opened into a small clearing. This was the place. She was sure of it once she looked across the open space.

Zenos yae Galvus sat on the ground at the base of an old massive tree. He was facing her approach, eyes closed, fingers hovering over the hilt of the katana that rested on his knees. The man was wearing nothing more than a matching set of leather top and trousers, a far cry from the heavy armor he had worn in her previous bouts against him. Zenos looked almost peaceful, sitting in the dancing dappled afternoon light.

“I’m here,” she called after a final glance over her shoulder.

He opened his eyes, gaze finding her face before going to the weapon on her back. His brows arched. “So, you have chosen to fight me as a dragoon?”

“I hope you don’t mind,” Summer Ruby said. “I mean, I didn’t think you would.”

Zenos flashed a toothy grin. “Not at all, my friend. If anything, I quite prefer it. But, if I may ask, what made you change your mind?”

She only briefly considered the answer, as she had been expecting the question. “It seemed more fitting. This fight is like a reunion in a fashion, isn’t it? A repeat of our first contest of strength. So I should fight now as I did then.”

He smirked. “Shall the results be the same as well?”

She was uncertain of the answer, but managed to smirk down at him. “That remains to be seen. Are you ready?”

“I am, I _am_.” His voice escaped in a groan. “Oh, how I have _longed_ for this day.” Zenos rose to his feet, left hand grabbing at her shoulder and pulling her in for a kiss. She laughed into his mouth and smoothly pushed him away.

“Zenos, now is not the time for kisses.”

“‘Tis the best time for kisses, my friend.” He grasped at her hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles. Summer Ruby smiled and pulled her hand from his grip.

“I believe it’s better to save that for later, hm? When we’re celebrating a good fight.”

“A good fight. Yes.” Zenos bounced on his toes for a moment before taking several steps away. She retrieved her lance from her back.

“I’d say we should fight fair,” she murmured, more to herself, “but I’m not sure you’re aware of the concept.”

Zenos’ eyes were wide and dark with excitement. “Bring all you have to bear upon me, Summer Ruby. I promise--I will not maim you this day.” He drew his katana. “But I _shall_ drive you to submission.”

“Good to know.” And it was, in its own strange way. Knowing that he would be restraining himself from his usual lethality would at least give her a fighting chance.

Not that she necessarily needed it--she should have been able to handle him in a fair fight. But again, this was Zenos. She wasn’t sure how practiced he was at actually restraining himself.

Summer Ruby considered the towering heights of the trees, of the spacing of the trunks at the periphery of the clearing, and the general capacity of her opponent. She flipped the length of the lance in her hands. It was a well worn weapon, carefully maintained by its owner. She was grateful for Ser Orage to have loaned it to her. After all, it had kept him alive for thirty years. She hoped it would spare her the same courtesy for a few minutes.

They moved to opposing sides of the clearing. Zenos stood ready, sword again in its scabbard and his hand over the hilt. She took a ready stance and kept her focus on him. His eyes gleamed with the trace of his Resonant, and she thought to do the same. Summer Ruby relaxed her other senses but focused on his eyes, concentrating until something flickered in her vision. Zenos smirked--he must have seen her Echo activate as well.

He had a loose hold on his aether, though she was uncertain if that was intentional or not. Perhaps he was just showing off, but the rust-red color ghosting down his limbs and pooling at his feet was unmistakable. She recalled Estinien’s report on his encounter with Zenos many weeks ago, that Zenos had become capable of using his aether as a shield against attacks. Considering how lightly armored the man was today, it was entirely possible that he would repeat that trick against her.

The only signal given that the fight had begun was the sudden streak of red between them. One moment Zenos was lingering at the treeline, and the next breath he was nearly standing in her shadow. He swung up, and she met his blade with the heavy head of the lance, knocking his attack away. They exchanged several blows like this, nothing serious, each feeling the other out. The look on Zenos’ face was difficult for her to digest in the scant moments between exchanged blows. He looked serious, focused, but also like he was increasingly close to succumbing to an orgasm.

This was not like the fight against Aymeric and Estinien, she thought. She did not have to hold back against Zenos. If anything, he would take offense to such a thing. There was no dread in her heart now, no fear of consequence for whatever the next few minutes might bring.

Over the shriek of steel against steel, he shouted: “Do not hold back on me!”

“I wasn’t planning on it!”

They leapt apart and slowly circled each other. Zenos favored her with a grin that was half fervor, half lust, and all teeth. “I do not wish to fight the heartsick maid who can barely stand to raise her hand against her husband. I draw my blade against the Warrior of Light--against my blessed beast!”

She dodged his swing and jumped away from the follow-up. When she came after him with an actual spear thrust forward he gracefully moved out of the way. She was still too slow, she thought, she would always be too slow for him.

_No_ , Summer Ruby told herself as she sprung into the air and landed high on a tree branch. _You are scarcely the same woman that fought him before. You are so much better than you were, than he is, you have an edge you just have to use it_ \--

She hurled herself back to the ground, but Zenos had no trouble sensing her approach and stepped away. Frustrated, she gripped the shaft for leverage and kicked out, roughly striking him in the backside of his right hand. Zenos fumbled his grip and nearly dropped his katana. He reclaimed it and steadied his hold with his left hand. Then he was on the attack once more.

As in times months passed now, she was still impressed by how nimble so large a body could be. She was fast, yes, but he was always faster, ahead of her with every swipe and dodge and parry. It was frustrating, but a little exhilarating. Zenos was a real challenge, not some meager training partner. His movements, his beautiful dance, forced her to think ahead of what she was doing.

Eventually she got away from him, jumping high into the trees, carefully threading through the treetops as her hunter lurked below. He stood, back turned to her, some fifteen yalms away down on the clearing floor. Her ears twitched--she could hear him breathing, a bit harder than usual with their exertion.

“There is no point in hiding from me, my friend,” Zenos called breathily. “I will find you anywhere!”

She adjusted her bracing against the tree, and called down to him. “Anywhere? And what when I die?”

His head turned before his body did, and she saw the glow in his eyes. For a scant moment he looked ahead, and then up, eyes flicking along the treeline until he found her. Zenos grinned fiercely and beckoned to her with his left hand. 

“I will still find you,” Zenos said. “I always find you.” He readied his stance. “My hunt is eternal. I will always find you again, Aesta. Your soul will lead me to you.”

The certainty in his gaze was first concerning and then reassuring from one moment to the next.

Summer Ruby shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. She flexed her legs and launched herself down at him, lance first. Zenos stepped away as she struck the ground in a spray of dirt and groundcover. He caught her in the side with the flat of his blade. The energy behind it knocked her to the ground, but she kicked out a heel and caught the man in the gut with enough force to throw him back. It bought her enough time to wrest her weapon from the ground and give it a defensive swing. The shriek of steel against steel marked the time of their dance.

She succeeded in dodging the next blast of energy, snarling and red, that erupted from his sword. Then another and another, forcing her closer to the edge of the clearing. Summer Ruby jumped into the closest tree, and the heavy trunk shuddered under a blow from Zenos’ sword. He looked up at her, and she saw the flash of his teeth before he raised his sword again.

She clenched her fingers around the cold metal, focusing her aether into the weapon as though she were about to cast a spell. The tip of the spearhead glowed blue as she hurled herself down at her opponent. 

Zenos stopped in mid-swing. Hand still firm on the hilt of his sword, he raised it to meet her attack. Summer Ruby’s descent halted when she hit the surface of his aether. It flickered for a moment before solidifying into a protective bulwark. She willed more of her aether into her weapon and could feel the old lance resonate beneath her touch, infused with memories of countless battles long since fought and faded. The prince of the Garleans was no dragon, but he would suffice.

Zenos stared up at her through the glimmering surface of his shield. For once he wore no smirk--his expression was truly focused and serious, pale eyes darting in their focus between her face and the point where her lance was striking his barrier. Her aether gleamed brilliant and blue at that locus, streaking out beyond the spearhead and nearly obscuring her vision. Summer Ruby directed the energy of her jump into that point, and she was rewarded by the sound of cracking glass. Zenos’ eyes widened--

And her downward momentum resumed as his shield shattered.

The point of the lance missed his flesh by an ilm or less, but it still skewered the leather covering his shoulder and threw him to the ground with concussive force. She yanked the lance free and leapt away, holding it at the ready. Aside from the heaving of his chest, Zenos was nearly motionless.

_Kill him,_ the little voice in the corner of her mind hissed as she stared down at Zenos.

Summer Ruby shook her head and stepped away as Zenos labored to his feet. He pushed his hair from his face and raised his katana.

“Everything I longed for,” he gasped. The tip of the blade wavered, and the fingers of his right hand clenched on the hilt. “My love, today you are no disappointment.”

She answered him not with words, but with a lunge forward. He deflected her blow and grabbed at her throat with his free hand. Zenos’ blue eyes were wild as he raised his sword. She whipped her weapon around and caught him in the side, throwing them both to the ground. She was alarmed by his cry of pain and the desperate way his aether sought hers, a red tangle that nearly ensnared her arm until she forced it back with her own.

Zenos grabbed the lance and threw it with enough force to send her flying. Summer Ruby only had enough sense to let go of the thing when she was in the air. She dropped back down. The lance struck a tree at the edge of the clearing, bounced off, and then rolled uselessly to her feet.

“Enough!” came the croak from the opposite direction. Summer Ruby picked up the lance. She looked on as Zenos struggled back to his feet. His left hand clutched at his ribs, and he grimaced when he took an unsteady step in her direction. Summer Ruby braced herself for another attack.

Zenos pitched forward, his weight dropping onto his knee. He sunk his sword into the ground and leaned heavily against it as he breathed out in winded gasps. “I yield!” He coughed and wiped at his mouth.

Summer Ruby was surprised, but did not waste a moment to hold him to his word. She sprinted to him, grabbed at a handful of his thick hair and yanked his head back. Zenos stared up at her, eyes still wild with the fight. She held the point of the spearhead to his throat.

“I should kill you right now. You know that, don’t you?” She watched a thin line of red appear on his fair skin. “It would be the right thing to do. Everyone in Eorzea would celebrate.”

No, that was a lie. She would not celebrate. She would mourn him, even though she knew death would not hold him permanently.

“Ah.” He did not break their gaze. His voice rattled in his throat. “Yes, my dear Aesta, you would not be in the wrong to do so.” He swallowed, and a bit of blood streaked down his throat. “You fought beautifully.”

Zenos exhaled, and his expression calmed. The manic edge left his gaze, and his face relaxed into nearly blissful repose. Summer Ruby was reminded of how he had looked the day he had first ended his life.

She pulled her weapon from his throat and let it fall to the ground. Dropping to her knees in front of him, she pressed her hand to his wound and healed him. His aether did not struggle against hers--it broke open wide and took her in. His eyes never left hers, and she felt his peace wash over her.

“Would that we could battle for all eternity,” he murmured. “Never tiring. Never yielding.”

She shook her head. “It cannot be that way, Zenos.”

“I know,” he said. “But a man can have a dream.”

And then, unbidden, pain pierced the left side of her face. It shot through her brow and into her eye, as surely as though someone had stabbed a dagger through the bone. She was unable to stop a cry of agony from escaping her throat, and could only turn away from him as she clutched at her face.

Zenos caught her before she hit the ground.

Then, mercifully, there was darkness.


	29. Hope However Dire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: The [[Echo]] at the beginning of this chapter contains the results of Sundering related violence.
> 
> It goes downhill from there.

[[ _Find her, find Matrisiram. Bring me the traitor’s soul. Bring me her aether so that I might make an example of her. Find her, find Matrisiram.._

He had to find her. He had to find her. He had to find her--before it was too late.

“Hades!” The voice that called out to him was weak, barely recognizable to him. He stopped, looking around, until he noticed a form stretched out on the grass.

It was Hythlodaeus. The front of his robes were rent open, and the delicate flesh of his chest had been torn asunder. Blood was flowing from the wound, and oozing from the corners of his mouth. He had lifted a hand in entreaty to his friend, and it dropped limply to the grass.

“Oh, Hythlo, I--” Hades dropped to his knees next to his friend. “What happened?”

His breath whistled eerily when his chest moved, as though the air was not making a home in his lungs at all. “The sky is so lovely today. Wouldn’t-- _hhhh_ \--wouldn’t you say?”

Hades did not have to look to the sky to know what he would see. Countless souls, far far more than normal, all making their journeys to the Underworld.

He hovered his hands over the wound, unsure what to do. He was not a healer, he was a builder. “Hey, stay with me, Hythlo. What happened?”

“I slowed her down-- _hhhh_ \--Percy got away.” The man’s jaw trembled.

“What? Percy, she was here?” Hope and worry flared simultaneously in his breast. They hadn’t seen her in _weeks_.

“Please, Hades-- _hhhh_ \--you have to save her- _hhh hhhh--_ ”

He fluttered his hands over his friend’s face, fingertips brushing the edge of his mask and smoothing back a lock of copper colored hair. “Shh, shh, it’s okay. Where is Percy? Where did she go?”

Hythlodaeus wheezed. “One of the Convocation was after her-- _hhhh--_ I could only slow them down, let her run--” He coughed, and Hades flinched at the flecks of blood that spattered his hand.

“ _Where_ , Hythlo? Please!” Hades felt desperate, worried his friend would not be able to give him his answer before his soul escaped. He could still hear Zodiark’s call, the order, to hunt down the defector and bring him her aether, her _soul_. The whole Convocation would have been hearing it, amongst the awful din of their god battling the other.

“The Praeta,” Hythlodaeus whispered. His head sunk into the grass, and a weary smile crept onto his bloodstained lips. “Please, Hades-- _hhhh_ \--give her my love, won’t you?”

Hades’ eyes stung. He stooped and pressed his lips to the brow of his friend’s mask. “Of course, of course. Praeta Primaria--thank you, Hythlo. I’ll send someone to help you.” 

The smile lingered on Hythlodaeus’s lips. “I’ll be fine.”

Hades gripped at the front of his robes as he bolted toward the Praeta Primaria. Panicked as he was, he still did not want to trip and take a spill. That would just slow him down, and he had to find her before anyone else did. He was still upset with her, yes, still angry because she had left the Convocation, abandoned them, abandoned _him_. But he wanted no harm to come to her. He would not let her lack of faith in the Convocation ruin his own faith in her. 

He did not make it to the Praeta before stopping, because neither had she. 

One of the Fourteen was looming over a pair of crumpled figures in the street. Their hood was down, and by their blue hair Hades knew them.

“Igeyorhm, stop! What are you doing?”

Igeyorhm sneered as she stood to face him. Her fingers were covered in bloodied metal talons that Hades remembered her getting approval on the concept for, ages ago. “I have but answered our Lord’s call, Emet-Selch. Pity that you did not get to her before I did, eh?” She grinned. “But, to be honest, I’ve been wanting to gut the ungrateful bitch for years.”

Anger flared up in his breast. “You petty, jealous--” Hades grabbed at her collar and shoved her away. Igeyorhm snarled and slashed at the air in front of his face.

“You pathetic bastard! She betrayed us, and you would let her get away with it, for _what?_ She doesn’t even fucking want you!”

He swallowed, just wanting to be rid of the woman. “Go. Get out of here. I will finish her off.” He bore his teeth at her. “I will not give you that pleasure.”

“You never have, Emet-Selch.” She half-started at him, but then turned and disappeared into the darkness.

“Hades?”

Percy could not get up. She was never going to get back up, he could see that plainly as he crouched over her. Igeyorhm had gotten her claws into the stray member of the Convocation. Her left hand was clenched tightly over her belly, fingers slick with blood and gleaming with her aether. He could see the blue beauty of her soul, flickering and struggling not to escape its holdings. She would be dead before he could find her a healer. Her gaze dropped to the side, and Hades followed the look.

It seemed a bystander--a student perhaps--had gotten in the way, as there was a younger man on the ground at her side. His mask had been violently wrenched off, leaving a bleeding mark across his forehead. There was a deep gash across his throat. The man’s eyes were brilliantly blue and glossy with tears. Hades did not recognize him, but still felt a twinge of pity for his unfortunate fate.

“Rigel...”

Hades returned his attention to her. He dropped to his knees and took hold of her free hand. “I’m so sorry, Percy. I didn’t-- I'm just _sorry_ , alright?”

She looked at him. “I brought this upon myself.” The corners of her mouth pulled down tightly as she grimaced in pain. “Hythlo--is he?”

“He’ll be fine,” Hades lied, forcing a tremulous smile onto his face. She squeezed her fingers against his.

“He always picks the s- _stupidest_ times to be heroic.” Another grimace.

“He… he does, yes, my dear.”

She pulled her hand from his and rested her fingers on the edge of his mask. “Emet-Selch… I hate this mask. I feel like I haven’t seen my best friend in an age.”

He pulled the mask off without hesitation and tucked it into his robes. Then he gingerly pulled her black mask free from its weakening tethers. She stared up at him, and he down at her.

“There you are,” she murmured, a smile fighting its way past the twist of her lips even as tears streaked endlessly from her eyes. “Hades.”

He leaned and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You are still so very beautiful. Did you know that?”

“It’s been awhile since you’ve reminded me,” she whispered. He could feel her aether stinging at his skin as it fled her. He fed a little of his back, trying to soothe her, trying to stop her tears.

“What can I do for you?”

“Just hold me,” she said.

Hades did as she asked, pulling her into his arms. She was trembling, and the sensation was only magnified against his chest as she weakly wrapped her arms around his sides. 

“I’m scared.”

He rubbed helplessly at her back. “It’s okay. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always be here.”

Hades held her, unable to stop her tears, to stop the sobs that escaped her and entered him, passed through his flesh and escaped out his own mouth.

After a few minutes, he became aware of the quiet that had descended upon them. The fighting had stopped. What had happened? 

She was delicate in his arms now. “Hades…”

“Yes, my dear?”

“Hades, I’m sorry, I--” She gasped softly, breath hot against his neck. “Goodbye.”

It happened slowly at first, before collapsing into a crescendo of destruction. He could feel her body splintering against him, feel her aether piercing his flesh as her soul fractured. As everything shattered around him.

He cried out, unaware his would be one of the last words called out in a lost world, a sad song of what could have been, but was never said--

“ _Persephone!”_ ]]

Summer Ruby was surprised, when the darkness retreated from her mind, to see Zenos looming over her. Surprised and rather confused by the look of concern on his face. His touch on her cheek was gentle, and his shoulders sagged briefly as he heaved out a sigh.

“You’re awake.” He leaned in closer, staring hard into her eyes. “You collapsed. Is aught amiss?”

She moved to push him away, but Zenos did not budge. “Just a--I don’t know. Something activated my Echo.”

He frowned and leaned down, pressing his forehead to hers. She winced at a painful jolt of his aether as his third eye imprinted on her skin. “Was it me?”

“I don’t know.”

Zenos leaned back, gaze searching hers. “Aesta--”

His breath choked off and his blue eyes went wide. Summer Ruby felt his body go taut over hers. Frozen in place, he trembled with some unknown exertion. His chest jerked as he struggled to speak.

“ _Something’s wrong_.”

Zenos’ pale eyes rolled back and his body sagged above her. His elbows caught at her sides as he collapsed, sparing her having to endure his weight crushing hers.

“Zenos?!”

She felt a shudder pass through his body, and then his breath, soft against her neck. He pushed himself up, rolling his frame forward until his lips pressed against the base of her right ear.

“Hello again, my dearest hero.”

Summer Ruby froze. The voice that resonated with sickly sweetness in her ear was not that of Zenos.

“I’ve missed you so _very_ much.”

It was the voice of a dead man.

She screamed and struggled against him, but could not break free. She screamed until her throat ached, until Zenos’ hand covered her face and darkness consumed her once more.

It was nearly nightfall when Summer Ruby returned to her senses. For a long moment her eyes struggled to adjust. She was in a small wooden room lit by a lone oil lamp that flickered weakly near the opposite wall. There was a low whine of wind outside the door, and she thought perhaps she was still out in the woods in someone’s abandoned hunting cabin. She sat up and scanned her surroundings a second time.

A section of the room beyond the lamp was cast in heavy shadow. It was there, in those shadows, that she sensed rather than saw a figure. Summer Ruby shifted her weight and tried to stand up, but her legs would not respond. Neither left or right--the limbs might as well have disappeared beyond her hips. She looked down, alarmed, but both legs were stretched out before her as they should be, uniform and unharmed. Just _unresponsive_ , and this only served to increase her sense of unease.

The figure in the shadows shifted forward, and she called to them.

“Zenos? What is--” The words failed on Summer Ruby’s lips as she stared up at the man. It was Zenos, it was definitely Zenos slowly approaching her. But something was _wrong_ , something out of place in the way his lips were pulled into a pleased smirk, something false in the way he stared down at her from behind his lowered eyelids.

“Wh--wh--” Something surged up her throat, fear laced with panic. She tried to move again but could not.

The smirk widened further into a lopsided smile. “My dear hero. I’m sorry to have put you down on the floor there, but it really is for your own good.” He still spoke with the wrong voice.

Summer Ruby nearly choked on the scream that bubbled up into her throat. For a moment she forgot how to breathe, then remembered and inhaled, only to have the breath wasted on a wrenching scream.

He grimaced. “That really is not necessary. You don’t see me having a fit over the condition that you left this vessel in, do you?” His right arm moved stiffly as he brushed down the length of his left. “The pair of you really are a couple of brutes, aren’t you?”

Summer Ruby dug her nails into the wooden floor as alarm tried to rip itself from her breast again. She tried to push herself away, but felt weary and weak. She did not know if that was just fatigue from her bout with Zenos or something that had been done to her after the event. 

She settled for screaming again, as though if she made enough noise she would wake herself up. Zenos--no, it wasn’t Zenos, it wasn’t him, it wasn’t her-- _he_ loomed over her with a sneer. Summer Ruby clamped her hands over her mouth and nose, breathing hard through her fingers.

“Honestly, woman, do you have to keep up that awful noise? Screaming will avail you naught. And there is no need for it, as I am not here to do you harm.”

She kept her hands tightly in place, unsure that she could remove them without screaming again. He stared down at her, a familiar downturn on his lips.

“And, here I thought you would be happier to see me. Especially after all that mental bemoaning of your actions I’ve had to listen to.” He made a grand gesture with both hands. “I am here to absolve you of your guilt, hero.”

He frowned when she shook her head. “What? You would rather cling to your guilt and regret for the rest of your days? Don’t be silly. I’m here now, and I _forgive_ you, dear. You were just doing what was demanded of you. I know it was not your heart’s desire.”

She dared to move her fingers just enough to croak a word through. “Zenos?”

His frown deepened. “ _What_?”

“Where is he? What have you done with him?”

He rolled his eyes. “What do you care of what happens to the boy? He couldn’t have been _that_ good in bed.” He smirked. “Unless you grew too fond of all that endless chit-chat.”

Something angry flickered through the horror and confusion still reverberating through her being. “What have you done to Zenos?”

He rested his left hand on his hip and flicked the right carelessly in the air. “Oh, he’s still in here. Quite angry, I must say. Raging like a wild beast and digging his claws into my shadows. A touch distracting, might I admit, but such is what happens when a vessel bears too willful a soul.”

“Let him go!”

“Oh, but I can’t do that, not now, not after I’ve been so patient. And he really is a perfect vessel--practically Ascian in all but origin.” He lifted his hands and flexed them. “Good aether control, excellent reflexes, and a nice strong body that I must admit I am quite eager to test the limits of on a _worthy_ opponent.” He smirked down at her. “I am almost reluctant to reformat it to my preferences.”

“Then why am I here? Let me leave. You don’t need me anymore; you got what you wanted.”

“Oh, no, I don’t think so, dear.” He squatted in front of her. “You know who I really am now, and that is a dangerous thing to have running around the Source. Well, more dangerous than you already are.” He cocked his head. “Besides, who’s to say you aren’t part of what I wanted? I still have _words_ to have with you, my violent little sweetheart.” For a moment he grimaced and looked away, muttering: “Honestly, if he doesn’t quiet down I’m going to have to just purge him. It’s nigh on impossible to be civil with him trying so very hard to shut me out.”

“Let him out then. Find a different body.” She fumbled for a solution. “You told me that Emperor Varis made clones of his grandfather. Why not use one of those?”

“The bodies were all destroyed, along with the facility that produced them.” His brows drew together, and she continued to be unsettled by Zenos’ face contorting in ways that it normally would not, while speaking with a voice that did not belong. “Why do you continue to look so upset? I thought you would be happier to see me.”

She recoiled, biting back a yelp as he leaned in toward her. He slouched, and she was honestly surprised she did not hear his back crack in protest.

“Please,” he said softly. “I do not know what I can do for you.”

Summer Ruby shook her head. “I’ve gone crazy. You are dead. I _killed_ you. I had to, I swear--” She pressed her face into her palms. “But you keep haunting me.”

“Ah. I see.” He sighed. “Or rather, you _don’t_. How foolish of me. My apologies.”

There was a stir of movement next to her head, and then a single, assurant _snap_.

“It is alright now,” he said, tone gentle. “Look at me, Summer Ruby.”

She shook her head again. She did not want to look. His fingers hooked lightly around her wrists and gave a tug.

“No!” Summer Ruby tried to scramble back, but her legs still would not cooperate. In her frustration, she looked up at him.

At Emet-Selch.

“No, no, _no_ you’re dead!” She could feel another panicked scream bubbling up out of her chest, but clenched her jaw against it. She squeezed her eyes shut. “Please, just let me go! I can’t take this anymore!”

“Let you go?” He sounded dismayed at her request. “But I’ve been waiting months now for a chance to speak with you face to face. Can’t you afford me a few minutes of your time?” He gestured at her mouth. “Without the screaming?” He sat in front of her on the floorboards. “Never took you for a screamer. Like a maiden in one of those murder plays. You may have missed your calling.”

She stared at him. He looked the same as she remembered, but that was impossible. He had _died_ , died with a great jagged hole in his abdomen. This was impossible. She had to be dreaming, or mad. Possibly both.

“Did Zenos’ Resonant do something to upset my Echo?” she wondered aloud.

“No, my dear. Aside from being entertainingly awkward with you, he had nothing to do with this.”

She squinted at him, trying to see through the glamour he had cast. “What do you mean? You were watching?”

“When I was wakeful with enough energy to be bothered.” Emet-Selch reached and gently pressed his fingertip just above her left eyebrow. “From right here, staring out from the little window I made in your aether.”

“The headaches. That was you?”

“It was rather cramped in there. I hope I wasn’t too much of an inconvenience.” He withdrew his hand.

“I just don’t understand. You died, Emet-Selch.” She paused in thought. “Hades.”

His lips quirked into a smile. “Yes, so you keep telling me. And truth be told, most of me was dumped off to the Lifestream on the First. Probably still floating around to maintain Amaurot’s presence, knowing me. But the core of me, the _me_ part of me, well.” He pointed at her forehead. “I’ve never been one to go gently into that good Light.”

“Why me? How did you--how did Y’shtola or Ryne not notice?”

“Truthfully, because you were the only one present who could handle my essence. But, I also wasn’t done getting reacquainted with you.” He sighed. “And, it is as I said. Dying caused me to cast off almost all of my aether. The spirit itself is nigh invisible in such a depleted state. I thought--I dared to take a chance with you, my dear. Though I must say that bathing in your personal Light for three months was a most unpleasant way for me to regain my coherence.”

Summer Ruby lightly pressed her fingertips to her temple. “And here I thought that damnable Light left a scar on my eye, and the whole time it was just your peeping window.”

“It is one of the places in the body with the best aether to soul ratio for non-invasive cohabitation.” His gaze did not waver. “How does your head feel?”

“It feels--” She stopped. Despite the fact that panic was still coursing thick and ugly through her veins, her head felt significantly lighter than it had since her return from the First. For the first time since she had stared through that jagged, aether burnt hole in the Ascian’s belly, her head felt _empty_. There was no terrible jumble of guilty thoughts, just quiet. The Light-ravaged edges of her soul had ceased to burn. It was hollow and nigh terrifying. “Kind of empty. Quiet.”

“Yes, that is because I’m not in there now, crowding everything in.” He smiled. “You can thank me later. Right now, I want to say something to you, and you tell me what it means to you.”

It felt like a trap, but she was already snared. “Go on.”

He leaned in slightly. “Persephone.”

For a moment it meant nothing to her, but then a faded memory flickered through her mind. “The awful Echo I had a little while ago. Was that… _your_ Echo?”

“More mine interacting with yours, but yes.”

“Why then? I was--we were in the middle of something. Zenos and I.”

“I know. I was watching, remember? Imagine my surprise when my great-grandson started chasing after you.”

“He just wants to fight me,” she said, mindful of the truth. Emet-Selch snorted.

“ _Please_ , Summer Ruby. You are a woman grown, not a silly, naive maiden. You know what he wanted. He wanted _you_.” He swirled a finger near the left side of his head. “Based on the rattling around, he still wants you, quite badly.” He hummed. “I’m impressed, I never took him as the sort to be able to get attached to anyone. Quite the miserable child, thanks to Varis. Perhaps a bit because of me. It really is no wonder he turned out a monster. But somehow he liked you enough to agree not to kill that long necked husband of yours.”

She blushed. “That’s none of your business.”

“No, but it’s all I’ve had for entertainment lately, so I had to make do.” He drummed his gloved fingers along his temple. “As for the timing of my interruption, I had to wait for the time when there would be the least amount of resistance to my transference. Zenos may be a Garlean with a borrowed Echo, but he still has a massive amount of willpower. I knew that you two locking horns like a pair of rutting stags in the forest would sufficiently tire the both of you out. And I was right, of course.” He looked away for a moment. “Though, I will admit I did not expect my Echo to hit you so roughly. You shouldn’t have _seen_ anything, just lost consciousness.”

Summer Ruby watched him pick at the white silk on the back of his hand. “What do you want with me, Emet-Selch?”

“I want _you_ to do better at remembering.” There was that strange scowled pout of his. “Your soul is more than half complete. You should be able to remember _something_ by now. Something of your past.”

“What past?”

“In Amaurot. With me.”

She grimaced. “As much as I doubt that I was ever in the real Amaurot, I’m fairly certain that if I was, it wasn’t with you, _Hades_.”

“You don’t have to be so cruel about it,” he said. “I know I meant something to you. We were best friends, to put a simple name to a greater thing.”

“I--I don’t know what you’re talking about, Emet-Selch. You must be mistaken.” She knew, if her dreams and those Echos had told her the truth, that she was lying to him. She couldn’t help herself--she wanted to escape and go home and regroup.

“You very well meant something to me! You were my--” His face contorted into something awful and desolate. “ _Surely_ you must remember something by now. Percy, please--!” His yellow eyes went wide, and he collapsed forward. By the time he hit the floorboards at her feet, the glamour had faded, leaving behind a wave of golden hair that spilled over her boots.

She stared, not certain what she should do.

The figure groaned, and the voice was different. It had turned low and growling as it ought to be. He pushed himself up onto his hands and knees before lifting his face to look up the line of her body.

“Aesta?”

She bit her lower lip. “Zenos?”

He was on her immediately, straddling her knees, hands to her face. He leaned in close, blue eyes intense as they searched hers. She was unnerved by the concern in his expression.

“Are you alright? He didn’t hurt you, did he?” His fingers clenched briefly. “Did he??”

She covered one of his hands with her own. After flexing a leg and finding it responsive she said: “I’m fine, Zenos. Just a little terrified, if I’m being honest.” She shook her head. “You’re quite the magnet for the Ascians.”

“I thought you said that my great-grandsire was dead,” Zenos said.

“He was. I killed him.” She frowned. “He didn’t stay that way.”

He growled. “How do I get him _out of me_?”

She moved her hand to cup his chin, thumb tracing along his lower lip as she looked into his eyes. They seemed normal enough--at least, normal enough for Zenos. “I don’t know if you can. How did you get control of yourself again?”

“I used my Resonant,” Zenos said. “Caught him off guard. I believe he is waiting for me to let my guard down, now.” He wrinkled his nose. “I am not a fan of this sort of fight, my dear Aesta. It is a waste of my time and energy.”

She pressed her lips to the tip of his nose. “I’m sorry, Zenos. I don’t know how to help you.”

“Where did he come from?”

“My head. He’s been in there since I killed him, it seems.”

Zenos looked at her, and then cut his gaze to the side. “So, he has been watching when we…”

“I think so.”

He grimaced. “Repulsive old man.” His hands slid from her face and grabbed at her shoulders. He pulled her close and pressed his nose into the patch of hair between her ears. She listened to the uneven pace of his breathing.

“Emet-Selch said you were fighting his control.”

“Of course I was.” His words tickled at her forehead. “This is _my_ body. I put a lot of effort into getting it back.”

“I don’t think he means to harm me,” she said, trying to make her tone as reassuring as she could manage.

“I don’t care,” he said. 

She sighed, fatigue settling into her veins in place of panicked adrenaline. “I want to go home.”

His arms tightened around her. “Aesta… Summer Ruby. Might I tell you something?”

“Of course. Say what you need to, while you have the chance.”

“I enjoyed our battle earlier. I was… moved. You truly were breathtaking. I regret that the ending was interrupted.”

She briefly smiled. “The ending wasn’t interrupted, Zenos. I beat you.”

“Yes. You did.” His sigh tickled her, and his lips moved from her hair to kiss down over her skin, until they found hers. “Your eye looks better.”

“I think that’s because Emet-Selch isn’t in there now. It’s just me.”

“Good.” He kissed her, uncommonly gentle and sweet, and then released his grip on her shoulders. “You should go now.”

“What will you do?”

The blue eyes looked around the rundown shack before returning to her face. “Stay here for now. Try to keep him away from you. From Ishgard.”

Summer Ruby brushed her knuckles along his cheekbone. “Zenos, be careful. Emet-Selch is powerful. He will purge you from your body if you irritate him too greatly.”

The blond brows lifted slightly. “Do you care if that happens?”

She swallowed. Her answer was not what others would want to hear. But now, as before, she felt as though she would be the only person in the entire realm who would care if Zenos yae Galvus disappeared. She nodded, steadfastly meeting his gaze. “I do.”

“Then, I will bide my time when he takes control. I will--” He hesitated. “I will see you again, Summer Ruby. We still have battles to fight.”

“Of course we do.”

The corner of his mouth twitched as he looked away. “Tell me. What of your realm’s gods do you follow? The one you go pray to at that cathedral.”

She had not been expecting this question. The Garleans were not a religious people. “Um, I’m Halonic, like the rest of Ishgard. So, that’s Halone, the Fury. Goddess of war.”

“Fitting. Of course one such as that would listen to you.” He swallowed. “Would you… Would you speak to them on my behalf?” Diffidence was not something Summer Ruby would have ever expected to see on Zenos’ face, but it was there now. “Just in case. In case my strength is not enough against the Ascian.”

“It will be enough,” she whispered. “I know, Zenos. You can--”

“ _Please_.” For a moment she saw him for what he was--a young man who was confused and angry and afraid. He may have been a monster, but she still wanted to comfort him--one monster to another.

“Of course, Zenos. I will pray for you.”

“Thank you.” She could see him steel himself, see the nerves succumb to his will to fight. “Until we meet again, my Aesta.”

She kissed his cheek. “Remember: The only person you’ve ever lost to is me. Don’t change that.”

He nodded stiffly. 

Summer Ruby got to her feet. She closed her eyes and focused her mind on the aetheryte plaza in the Holy See. 

When the first blast of cold hit her cheeks, she was startled by the sting of the frozen air hitting the tracks of tears on her cheeks. When had she cried? Her throat ached from screaming, yes, but she did not recall having wept. Had she cried for Zenos? Or for the Ascian? Or just in fear for herself? She did not know.

She started up the stairs to the Cathedral.

Summer Ruby had nearly reached the top when a voice called out below her: “Summer!”

She stopped, taking a shaky breath before turning and taking the steps two at a time until she reached the bottom and threw herself into her husband’s arms. He held her tight to him.

“Aymeric, I--”

“Shh, it’s alright. I’ve got you.” His voice was strained. “You disappeared again, my love. Just as you said you might.”

Her eyes burned with fresh tears, and she pressed her face into his coat. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, Aymeric.”

His fingertips soothed down her back. “Were you going to the Cathedral?”

There was no point in dishonesty. “For a few minutes.”

“Might I accompany you?”

She nodded. “Please.”

Hand in hand, they slowly ascended the stairs.

“Are you alright?” Aymeric asked. “I mean, physically. Your fight with Zenos…”

“Went well enough. I’ve had worse outcomes of battles.” Truth be told, her muscles were tired and aching, and she had not had a chance to access any actual physical damage that she had taken.

He squeezed her hand. “I’m relieved.”

“I won,” she said, though at the moment she did not feel that this was the case.

“Of course you did,” Aymeric said. “I knew you would be victorious.” They turned up the next set of stairs. “But, I was still a little concerned, especially when your chocobo returned alone. Zenos can be vicious.”

“I didn’t say he wasn’t.” She stopped on a step as realization reached her. “Shit, Ser Orage’s lance is still out there in the woods.”

Aymeric ran his thumb across her forefinger. “It will be alright for the night, my love. We can send someone out to retrieve in the morrow.”

She sighed. “Yes, of course. I just feel foolish, misplacing it like that.”

“I’m sure he will understand.” Aymeric paused at the top of the stairs. “You did not return with Zenos, either. Is he…”

Summer Ruby swallowed hard against a sudden tightness in her throat. “Physically intact, but he--” She took a shuddering breath and shook her head. “I don’t know--I’m not ready to try and explain it tonight, Aymeric.”

“Is his condition why you want to go to the Cathedral this late?”

“In a manner.” She decided to continue her honesty. “Zenos asked me to pray for him.”

Amyeric’s eyes widened. “The Garlean? But they don’t…”

“I know.”

“It must be some dire matter indeed,” he murmured. Aymeric lifted her hand and kissed at her knuckles. “Let us go in, then, that you might honor your friend’s request.”

“Thank you, Aymeric.”

“Of course.” Her husband looked somberly at the Cathedral doors. “If Halone called to him, and he heard her enough to call for her aid, then I am in no position to prevent his petition from being heard.”

Summer Ruby wasn’t sure that was really what was going through Zenos’ mind when he asked for her to pray for him. “I think he was just afraid.”

Aymeric fixed her with a curious look. “Zenos yae Galvus, afraid? Whatever could strike fear into that man’s heart?”

“One of the same things that strikes it into yours.” She tightened her grip on his hand. “Being lost to me.”

He frowned. “You will tell me what happened in the morning, yes?”

“I will. But tonight I need to cry for a bit and get some rest.”

“May I stay by your side, my love?”

Summer Ruby looked down at him and nodded. “Please.”


	30. These Memories Ache

Aside from an offhand note in a report from Lord Francel, Zenos’ absence in Ishgard went unmarked. After two days of quiet, Summer Ruby checked with various innkeepers, but the man had not returned to his rented room in Gridania, and neither could any of the inns of Ishgard could report his occupancy. The dragon that returned Ser Orage’s lance to the city saw no sign of the Garlean lurking about the woods. The days continued to tick by, and Summer Ruby could only wonder what had become of Zenos and Emet-Selch.

“Ser Orage was at the meeting for the House of Lords this morning,” Aymeric reported over dinner. “He said that he never expected in all his years to have his dragon-slaying weapon returned to him by a dragon.”

“We’re never too old for a new experience,” Summer Ruby said. She turned the stem of her wine glass slowly between her fingers. Aymeric’s smile was warm as he gazed at her across the table.

“And he also told me that Merle cut another tooth last night, but that he was a good lad and did not raise too much a fuss over it.”

She smiled as she set her glass down. “We’re fortunate to have Ser Orage around. He certainly knows--” Summer Ruby stopped, her ears twitching in response to something--not a sound, but a shift in the room’s aether. Aymeric cocked his head at her sudden silence.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, quickly closing his mouth when she lifted a hand. 

Summer Ruby felt out into the room with her aether, and quickly found where the imbalance lay. She frowned, turning in her seat to look in the direction of the fireplace.

“I know you’re there,” she ground out, unable to ignore the nervous look her husband cast in her direction. She got to her feet. “Show yourself.”

There was a long moment where she could only feel the imbalance. Then it coalesced, so rapidly that the flames in the fireplace flickered and vanished. A swirl of darkness appeared where the firelight’s glow had been, and the intruder stepped out.

Emet-Selch threw his arms wide, looking inappropriately pleased. “Now, now, dear hero, there’s no need to stand for me.”

Summer Ruby felt a surge of panic and fought back the urge to scream. Her subsconscious still snapped in denial, reminding her that Emet-Selch should have been dead. She was glad that little Merle was not at home tonight. This was a far greater danger than Zenos had been months ago. And where was Zenos? Was he still there somewhere, clothed in his great-grandsire’s glamour, or was he gone? It had been six days. An Ascian could do a lot of damage in just six days.

“What are you doing here?” she hissed at him. “What have you done with Zenos?”

“With Zenos?” Aymeric echoed in a confused tone.

Emet-Selch’s eyes burned in a way the firelight could never hope to replicate. “What do you even care what I’ve done with the boy? You don’t _need_ him, you have--” He stopped at the sound of Aymeric’s chair scooting along the rug.

“I do not know who you are, sir, but you have no business bursting into my home uninvited.”

“Have I not?” Emet-Selch took a step forward and neatly leapt up onto the end of the long dining table. The dishes and cutlery rattled in protest.

“Aymeric, _please_.” Summer Ruby waved a staying hand at her husband.

The Ascian’s burning gaze pivoted to the Elezen. “ _Aymeric_ , yes. I have heard much and more about you, young man. I have heard your lady love pine and weep for missing you.” He took a heavy step along the old wood. Emet-Selch sneered. “Do you want me to let you have a final moment with her before I kill you?”

Aymeric shrunk back, an empty hand touching at his unarmed left hip. “Who are you?”

Emet-Selch flourished his right hand over his face, and the menacing form of his glyph appeared. “I am the one who has come to claim his prize.”

She heard a faint gasp escape her husband. “Emet-Selch!”

“Ah, so she told you of me?” Emet-Selch’s voice lilted as he leaned over the table, his tainted aether curling in a dark wave down from his shoulders. “She told you how _I_ was her comfort on the First, how I kept her company, how I kept her _satiated_ when you were a world away?”

Aymeric’s jaw clenched.

Emet-Selch raised his hand, fingers poised to snap. “Well, then, that makes this much easier for me.”

“Stop!” Summer Ruby lurched at the table. She dug her nails into the silky fabric of Emet-Selch’s skirts and tugged as hard as she could. The Ascian stumbled and turned his ire on her.

“Stop? Why should I stop? You don’t need him, Percy, you just need _me_! I will rid you of all these pointless petty burdens holding you back! You will be free to be as you should!”

She shook her head, giving another tug. “Emet-Selch--Hades, _please_. Please don’t hurt Aymeric. I know you loathe him for it, but I love him. Please, don’t hurt him.” She choked out a sob and pressed her face into the dark cloth. “I beg you.”

She could feel the tension in his aether falter.

“Why?” Emet-Selch whispered down at her. “Why would you have me spare him? He’s nothing!”

“He’s everything to my heart in this life. My heart is bound to Aymeric!” Summer Ruby looked up at the Ascian, fingers aching in their grip. Emet-Selch stared down at her, eyes wide and uncertain. She swallowed. “You can’t understand, this transient life’s heart and my soul’s heart are not the same. You would see that if you weren’t too afraid to look!”

Emet-Selch grimaced. “Fractured failures, and you would throw that in my face as a good thing?!”

“It is the truth!”

“I will show you the truth, Summer Ruby!” 

She yelped as the Ascian reached down and grabbed her roughly by the back of her collar. He effortlessly lifted her off her feet, and she scrabbled her fingers at his side as they lost their grip on his skirts.

Emet-Selch growled: “Say good-bye to your _husband_ , Summer Ruby.”

He lifted his free hand, and snapped.

The darkness was brief and disconcertingly familiar.

When her senses returned to her, Summer Ruby was met by the softness of bedcovers and the steady drone of rainfall. She opened her eyes, looked up, and realized that she knew where she was.

“The boy has quite a fond memory of this place.” Emet-Selch’s voice chimed out near her. “So, it was easy to bring you here. He pointed me right to the front steps.”

She sat up, a little too quickly, and squeezed her eyes shut with a grimace.

“Easy now, sweetheart. You don’t need to go and burst a blood vessel.”

Carefully, she opened her eyes again. She looked around the loft of the hermit’s cabin that she and Zenos had secreted away to more than a month ago now. Summer Ruby looked up at Emet-Selch. He had his hands on his hips and a forward lean to his posture. He was smirking slightly, which was a little unsettling when combined with the fact that his eyes were still a little wilder than they ought to have been were he truly calm. Just pretending then, she thought. Despite having the upper hand in the situation, he was still nervous about something. She wondered what.

Summer Ruby sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “What the hells, Emet-Selch.”

He turned and paced the small dimensions of the loft. “You know, I really did expect you to be happier to see me.”

“So you said, but we didn’t exactly part on the best of terms,” she said, repressing a shudder. “I must admit, I’m still rather shaken to see you standing in front of me again.”

“Hm. Afraid of ghosts?”

She shook her head. “Something like that. I’ve never been all that good with the living dead.”

“And yet you had no trouble playing around with little Zenos.” The smirk renewed itself on his lips.

“How much of everything were you really watching?”

Emet-Selch shrugged. “A bit of this, a bit of that. Do not worry your pretty head. I could not read your mind or see or dreams or your memories or anything like that. Naught beyond what you wailed too loudly. I was, for the most part, locked away in my own very cramped little bubble.” He scratched at the back of his head. “It took me several weeks before I regained enough cohesion to fully wake up at all. And when I did, I could only see out when you had your eyes open. Fortunately for me, you close your eyes a lot when you’re having sex, otherwise I would have had to close my own, for the sake of decency.”

She blushed as she watched his slow pacing. “You seem calmer now.”

“Ah, yes.” Emet-Selch’s tone was apologetic as he stopped and looked down at her on the bed. “You must forgive me for losing my temper when confronted with you and your _husband_ like that. It caught me off guard. ‘Tis quite one thing to see a little image of him in your head, and another entirely to have that shoved in one’s face. It makes things a little too real.”

“Clearly.” She drew her knees up to her chest. “And now?”

“Now it’s just you and me, my dear. Free to discuss things in peace.”

She frowned at his wording. “And Zenos?”

Another smirk: “He’s having a nice little nap.”

Summer Ruby clenched her fingers in the bedcovers. “By force?”

“Force? Oh, no. That was not necessary this time. We came to something of an agreement. I get control of the body for now, he sits quietly and doesn’t struggle over it, and I let him back out to see you before you leave.” He curled his fingers toward his hairline. “A fair enough arrangement, don’t you think? I consider it a reward for his good behavior as of late. He’s kept such a good eye on you…”

“Good behavior? Emet-Selch, he murdered his father.”

“Ah, yes, I know. I have been observing, remember?” Emet-Selch chuckled. “I cannot help but consider that part of his good behavior. We’ve had a bit of a chat in the interim since last I saw you.”

“I see.” Summer Ruby still felt uneasy with him so close, but despite his rough appearance she felt almost certain that he truly meant her no harm. “Is Aymeric unharmed, then?”

“I did not touch him. I only brought you here.”

She nodded slowly. “Thank you.”

“I know I have caused you trouble, but I have meant you no anguish. It is simply an unfortunate side effect of this process.”

She had no real idea of what process he referred to--was it something about the Ascians and their Ardors, or something else? “Emet-Selch, why are you doing this? Why did you bring me here?”

He stared at her, and Summer Ruby watched the energy settle in his expression. “I brought you here to talk to you about _you_.”

“What about me? You mean you didn’t glean out all the interesting details while you were in my head?” She thought of the flickers of dreams and Echoes that she had experienced since returning from the First--of the memories that held Emet-Selch’s past self.

Emet-Selch sat across from her, mimicking her pose, skirts bunched up in his lap. “I need to talk about you, Summer Ruby.” His expression was sincere and aching as he leaned in and took a gentle hold of her face in his hands. “And, for once, I want you to give me the courtesy of believing what I tell you, and knowing that I have no reason to lie to you. I never have.”

Had he ever lied to her, or the Scions? Not that she knew of--not directly at least, unless one counted a lie as telling the truth with an omission of some of the facts. And certainly some of those omissions were simply because they had not thought to ask the correct questions of the man--his peculiar personal rule. She swallowed, unsettled by the potency of his golden gaze. It felt like he was staring into her soul.

“You remember what I said back on the First, yes? Hero of the Source, seven times rejoined. Eight now, isn’t it? That sad fellow from the First has finally gone home.”

She nodded--perhaps he _was_ in fact looking at her soul. “I remember.”

“The souls on the Source have been rejoined seven times now. Fine, but to be honest, quite most of them are still weak, inconsequential things. But _you_ \--” He breathed a sigh. “Your unsundered self was a far more great thing than the common folk. And now you are the closest to complete of anyone on this forsaken star.” His thumbs traced along her cheeks in a reverent caress. “And now I am so very glad it is you, and no one else.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s alright,” he murmured, voice soft and sweet, as though he were trying to reassure a child. “Let me clarify it for you.” The pad of his thumb touched her lower lip. “Remember: This is the truth, as few remain to tell.”

Something inside her recoiled in fear, and she fought to hold his gaze. “Tell me, Emet-Selch.”

“What I told you on the First was true. That incongruity in your memories exists because you as you are now only began to live again very shortly after the most recent Calamity. Summer Ruby of the Burning Mountain was a 30 year-old Roegadyn woman who worked as a waitress serving tables at Costa del Sol. Her twin sister worked there as well, as a dancer. Correct?”

“Y-yes, that’s right.” She frowned. Why was he telling this story?

“Elsewhere in the world, a woman with a soul, six times rejoined, died at the battle of Carteneau. Only a few days later, Summer Ruby took ill and died in a matter of hours, most likely from accidental poisoning. She was buried by her twin sister in the land not far from the resort town.”

Her memories from the days of the Calamity were hazy at best, and her heart and mind fought over accuracy. She had spent years ignoring that the uncertainty existed at all. “That’s not true, I didn't die. It was just a stomachache!”

“No, sweetheart, you didn’t die. But _she_ did.” He sighed, and his thumbs moved to nearly meet in the middle of her chin. “And Hydaelyn found the soul of that woman in Carteneau, now freshly rejoined with another shard of her soul, and placed it into the body of that unfortunate Roegadyn woman. She disappeared for five years, and then rose again, malms and malms and malms away in the Black Shroud. Those were calamitous times, and no one remembered her, any more than she could remember much of herself. But the hero lived again, and pressed on and on, unable to understand why, right up until this very moment as I sit here with her lovely confused face in my hands.”

Summer Ruby swallowed against a hard lump in her throat. “You’re lying. You have to be. I didn’t die at Costa del Sol.”

A soft, resigned noise. “You’ll just have to take my word on that. I can’t make you believe it myself.”

The words made her grimace. “If I’m just a soul dumped into a body, then how am I any different from a body-snatching Ascian?”

He smiled: “You aren’t. You are just another weary traveler, taking residence in an abandoned refuge.” A gloved hand gestured vaguely out at the little building that surrounded them.

“I don’t understand. Why now? Ever since we met on the First, you kept rubbing it in our faces that we were just pathetic, incomplete souls, scarcely worth your time or effort. So, why the urgency now? Why not wait until I am complete?”

Emet-Selch shook his head. “Because these are increasingly calamitous times, and you are needed here and now. I cannot conscience to lose sight of you again for Zodiark-knows how many centuries. I cannot, not when you are finally so close to us, to remembering.”

“You were ready to let me die on the First.”

He huffed and looked toward one of the rain streaked windows. “I was frustrated and cross. You had so thoroughly undermined our plans, and you were there and I just took it out on you. I am sorry, my dear, please know that I am.”

Summer Ruby thought of his moments of kindness in the dark of her room in the Pendants, and nodded slowly. She whispered: “Why tell me this now? Why fuck with my head like this?”

Emet-Selch’s lips pursed, and his gaze focused on his thumbs for a long moment. Then he looked into her eyes again. “Because I want to--need to tell you about the soul that makes you who you are. Why Hydaelyn so jealously snatched you up for herself as soon as she could.”

“Tell me.”

“Every shard of every soul has its own copy of the original’s memories, diluted however thin. I believe that there is enough of you in there now that, given time, you will be able to awaken most of the memories without my assistance. But someone must give you the starting point. You’ve been broken for so very long, and it isn’t fair to expect miracles from you.” He huffed at a laugh. “Well, beyond all the ones you’ve already caused on this wretched star.”

She moved her hands to grab at his wrists and break free from his gentle caress. “Then, tell me, Emet-Selch. Hades. Please.”

“The name of that soul, that _you_ , is Persephone,” he said. The Ascian closed his eyes and grimaced as though in pain. “You were my dearest friend, and the only person I ever… ever…”

She watched the way that Emet-Selch shied, half trying to free his hands from her grasp. “Ah. You were in love with her. With me.”

“It wasn’t something as base as that,” he hissed, cheeks turning red. “We were _connected_. You just--I just--” He sighed. “There just wasn’t the time. And then it was too late, and everything was gone.”

She considered the lingering pain in his expression. “You still love me, then.”

He shook his head slowly. “I don’t think I would have made it this long without my memory of you. Without my… _need_ to see you again.”

She thought of her dreams. “What about Hythlodaeus?”

Emet-Selch’s expression brightened incrementally. “Ah, yes, dear Hythlo. You ran into his shade in Amaurot, didn’t you?”

“I did. He seemed kind. Familiar, somehow.”

“He was my other closest friend. Definitely my most incorrigible.” He scratched his cheek, a nostalgic cast to his features. “I think you and he were the only two in Amaurot who wanted to put up with me. And Hythlodaeus was such a persistent tease. Kept saying my feelings were obvious, and that it was easy to ask you out, he had done it after all. ‘Just do it, Hades, you’re really missing out, and making her miss out.’ And I _wanted_ to, I just--work was so much more important for all of us than personal business. That’s how we got to our lofty stations, after all.” His smile widened. “I was so proud of you. And so glad to have you around me again.”

“Our stations?”

“I was the Emet-Selch, and later you became the--” He faltered. “Oh. You don’t remember that yet, do you. You were a member of the Convocation of Fourteen, for a time.”

Her dreams had hinted as much, so she pushed on to a different question. “If that is the case, why did I not become an Ascian with you and the others?”

He grimaced and looked away again. “Yes, of course you’d go for the unpleasant part of the memory first.” He sighed. “You left us, Percy. Toward the end of days. You disagreed with the plans to summon Zodiark. And you left. You betrayed us all.”

Something pricked at her mind. “Was it betrayal, to disagree? To walk away from something I felt was wrong, that I didn’t want to be part of?”

Emet-Selch flinched. “So, you are still of the same mind as then. Are you _sure_ you don’t really remember?”

She shook her head. “Not that part. Not actively. It was just a thought that occurred to me. Being the dissident shouldn’t be equal to betrayal.”

He sighed. “It certainly felt like betrayal at the time. You just… walked out of an emergency meeting, and disappeared. The others sent me to find you, because who else could? We were two parts of a whole in their eyes. At least, the only ones who _willingly_ went into each other’s offices. But, I could not find you. You had hidden yourself away, hidden your soul away so that we could not find you.” Emet-Selch scrubbed his fingers through his hair, the echo of some long remembered panic flickering onto his soft features. His fingers clasped at the back of his skull. “I could not find you. Hythlodaeus could not either. It was as though you had ceased to exist. And it hurt so _badly_ , to be cut off from the person who I’d been closer to than anyone else for my whole life.” His voice trembled, and he looked away. “I did not know it would be preparation for the next twelve-thousand years.”

Summer Ruby was only partially surprised by the sting of pity she felt stir in her breast. “Where did I go?”

“I do not know,” he said. “You will have to remember and tell me. Tell me where. Tell me _why_. I would have protected you from the rest of the Convocation. Surely you must’ve known that.”

She touched his shoulder, and dug her fingers into the tension there. “I will tell you, if I remember.”

“You will,” he said softly. “I suspect that, even if your conscious self hasn’t begun to recall your past, your soul has. From prolonged exposure to my influence, if nothing else.”

“Is that dangerous? That proximity?”

“Hm. Nothing more than the headaches, I should suppose. How do you feel, now?”

“Admittedly still somewhat out of sorts with all of this. And unsettled by your being here at all.” She left out the lingering agitation she felt at Zenos’ apparent surrender to the Ascian’s will. 

“I only ask--” Emet-Selch pulled a handkerchief from the air and cleaned in closer to her. He pulled the soft silk over her cheek. “Because you’ve been crying since I brought you here.”

She blinked. “What?”

“You have. Little constant tears, staining your lovely cheeks. Are you afraid of me, my dearest?”

“I--” Summer Ruby watched his hand. “I didn’t realize I was crying again.” She frowned. “It keeps happening. I don’t know why.”

He sighed and tapped her lightly on the nose. “Perhaps I am just causing you undue stress. Or, perhaps something sad is simply awakening inside your soul. Considering how things ended, it is certainly a strong possibility.”

She thought. “Ended on the First, or ended in Amaurot?”

“Oh.” Emet-Selch scoffed out a soft laugh. “I suppose we do not have the best track record in partings, do we, dear?”

“Not the best, from what I can recall.”

He left the handkerchief resting on her thigh and shuffled himself about to be seated hip to hip, rather than facing her. Emet-Selch hummed thoughtfully as he smoothed down his skirts. Summer Ruby puzzled over his lingering mastery with glamours as he swung his feet. She knew the body sitting next to her should have been far taller and bulkier, and yet that which touched her was all delicate lines and slumped shoulders.

“How much _do_ you remember, then?”

“Just little bits and pieces.” She reached out, touched the smooth surface of his outer skirt. The bottom was unblemished, despite her recent assault on it in her dining room. “Um, bits of things from dreams and strange little Echoes I’ve experienced. If I didn’t know better, I would just think they were random things influenced by stress and memories of visiting your recreation of Amaurot on the First.”

He leaned and pressed his shoulder against hers. “Tell me?”

“Well, Emet-Selch--Hades?” Summer Ruby hesitated and looked at the Ascian. “What would you rather I call you?”

He shrugged the shoulder not pressed to hers. “Oh, I would take either, coming from you.” Emet-Selch smiled. “I am still the Emet-Selch. But in private I will just as readily respond to you calling me Hades. I did before, so, whatever comes to mind first, Percy. Ah-” He tapped a gloved finger against his lips. “I see what you mean. Do you mind me calling you that? I’ve waited so very long, I nearly cannot help myself now.”

“I don’t mind, in private.”

He nodded and hummed again. “So, you’ve had dreams?”

“A few. I mean, there was the Echo you showed me a few days ago, even if you didn’t mean to. I don’t--I don’t have any memories of those last minutes. Not yet, at least. I suppose I might remember later on. Or never--I mean, who wants to remember their death? I’ve had little snippets of the Final Days, though. Near the end. Wandering in the burning streets…” She frowned. “Fire falling from the heavens.”

He wrinkled his nose. “Anything more pleasant?” Emet-Selch spoke in a teasing tone: “Anything about me, perchance?”

Summer Ruby snorted a laugh. “What if all I had of you were bad memories?”

He pouted. “We didn’t squabble _that_ often. More in our younger years. But in the Convocation, sometimes it felt like we were the only allies we had at the table.”

“I haven’t really remembered anything about the Convocation yet,” she admitted. “Just… Matrisiram.”

“Ah, so you remember your title, at least. That’s good. That is a start.”

“Though, I feel like I should remember more, right? I was part of it for awhile?”

He swung his legs again. “Quite some time, yes. Not as long as I; you were still teaching when I became the Emet-Selch.”

“At the Praeta Primaria,” she murmured. Emet-Selch nodded.

“That’s right. You were a creative arts teacher. That is--” He swirled his finger in the air. “Not so much the nitty gritty of concepts, but the artistic side of creation.” He smiled. “I suppose we really should have come up with a better clarification for that, but no one ever thought about it back then. I suppose the distinction is a bit clearer in our original tongue.”

“So, I was an artist? What would the Convocation need with an artist?”

“You were, yes. The city’s greatest _Arbor artifex_ , without question. But you had an unparalleled and uncompromising attention to detail that went into every part of your life. You had a tendency to correct people’s errors. It used to irritate Hythlo, but I always thought it was charming, in a fashion. And it was that fearlessness in your care that made you Matrisiram.”

“Was I any good at it?”

“The best,” Emet-Selch said without hesitation. “You were… one of the first to notice something had gone wrong, toward the end. You saw the patterns in the reports. You tried to make the council listen. They just…” He sighed. “Yours was never the most popular position to deal with.”

“I understand.” She jerked slightly at a rumble of thunder outside. “I remember that… you would come and drag me out of my office, when I got too wrapped up in editing and nearly missed meetings. And I remember you would sometimes hide in my office and nap when the elders were cross with you.” She smiled at his chuckle.

“I must admit, I think I miss our younger days the most,” Emet-Selch said. He reached and clasped her hand in his own. “We were so much closer, then. Or, at least, we had so much more time for each other. You and I and… Hythlodaeus. When we all started getting serious into our careers, we stopped having as much time to spend together. I got so very absorbed in my duties. I think that if you had not become Matrisiram, I might never have seen you at all some months.”

Summer Ruby looked at their hands. She thought of the bits of memories and dreams of Amaurot she had experienced that had not included Hades. She wondered, as she had tried not to for the last few days, why the unfortunate man Hades had found with his dear Percy nearly dead on the ground at the End looked so very similar to the smiling face who had kissed her and called her his beloved conflux.

“Something the matter?” Emet-Selch asked. She felt a flutter of aether between their palms. Summer Ruby jerked guiltily and shook her head.

“No, no. Just.. the storm. It doesn’t storm in Ishgard. I think I might be more sensitive to the levin energy as a Viera. That’s all.”

“Well, I’m afraid you’ll just have to weather it,” he said in a sour tone. “You can’t go back.”

“You can’t just keep me here forever, Emet-Selch.”

“I won’t. But you can’t leave yet. Not until you understand where you belong. Until you _remember_.”

She sighed and pulled her hand away, but Emet-Selch quickly snatched it back into his holding.

“Don’t,” he said sternly. He laced their fingers together, and again she felt the tickle of aether against her palm.

“What are you doing?”

“It is just my aether. It will not harm you like this.”

Summer Ruby wanted to tell him he was wrong, that surely that was not his aether she was feeling, but that of Zenos. The dark undercurrent lingering in Emet-Selch’s eyes warded her away from pressing the matter. Instead she offered some of her own aether in return, and was rewarded with a definite ebbing of the tension of the Ascian’s body and face.

“My beloved Persephone.” His tone was warm, though directed at their hands. “I swear, I will never harm you, and I will let you come to no further harm.”

“Because you love me?” she asked, careful.

“Yes.”

She considered her options. “Then, let me speak with Zenos for a few minutes.”

Emet-Selch grimaced as he looked up from their hands. “Must you, Percy?”

“I must, as Summer Ruby. I have my concerns for his well being.”

For a moment he said nothing. Lightning flickered in the windows, and Summer Ruby counted out the seconds until the thunder. The windows rattled. Emet-Selch heaved a reluctant sigh and carefully disengaged his hand from hers.

“Fine. But just for a few minutes. I will be keeping a very tight hold on his leash.”

She pressed her palm to his cheek. “Thank you.”

Emet-Selch settled back on the bedcovers. He folded his hands on his chest and closed his eyes. The change was nigh instantaneous--just a shimmer of red aether, and the glamour faded, leaving behind just the strangely serene face of the Garlean prince.

“Zenos?” she called softly. His eyes fluttered open, pale blue and beautiful.

“Aesta!” Zenos reached for her with his big hands and pulled her against his chest. He was still wearing the same leather tunic and trousers he had during the battle days before. “Are you alright?”

“I would ask much the same of you.” She rested the base of an ear against his firm chest and listened to the tremulous pounding of his heart. “We don’t have much time.”

“I know. He said so.” Zenos swallowed. “I’m trying to behave for you, Aesta. But it is so very tedious, and the old man does so love to talk about himself. I’m half-tempted to rend myself open just to shut his mouth.”

Her heart leapt, and she scolded him immediately: “Don’t say such things, even in jest.”

“I apologize. He tries my patience.” He tugged her up a few more ilms, until they were face to face.

“How long did you hold out?” she wondered. “After I left the cabin?”

Zenos puffed up a bit. “Almost a whole day.”

She smiled against the tears stinging her eyes. “I prayed for you, to Halone.”

“Thank you. Knowing that gives me a strange comfort.” He kissed her, playful despite the motion’s urgency.

“Are you--are you aware, then, when Emet-Selch is in control?”

She felt his lips twist into a frown against her chin. “Sometimes. It seems he means to torment me. I don’t know how he does it. Sometimes I am aware, and can hear things, but not see them. To hear you speak and be unable to see your face is a strange, painful dream.”

“I’m sorry, Zenos.”

“This is not your fault, Aesta.” He kissed her again. “‘Tis the old man’s doing, not yours.”

“Was he unkind to you when you were a child?”

For a moment Zenos said nothing. He stared forward, eyes unfocused. At another flicker of lightning in the windows he blinked. “No worse than my father.”

“I see.” She traced a fingertip down his nose. “I am sorry, though. That Emet-Selch has done this to you. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“You had no way to know what wickedness had seeded itself in your eye.” He flinched, and she saw a flicker of red cross his right pupil.

“Shh, don’t fight him. Remember what I said, okay?”

There was another flicker, but then his features went lax. He whispered. “I cannot repent for my sins. But I would embrace goodness and mediocrity for you, Aesta.”

Summer Ruby leaned in, quite certain she had misheard him. “What?”

“Nothing,” Zenos croaked softly. “‘Tis idle speak.”

“If you say so…”

“The Ascian comes for the reins.” His long eyelashes fluttered, and she saw a brief gleam of fear in his eyes. “I promise, I will find a way to be rid of the old man.”

“I’m sure you will think of something.” Summer Ruby kissed his cheek, even as Zenos started to push her away.

“Take care, my Aesta. I will be dreaming of you.”

She got up and moved away, focusing her gaze on the bookshelves as she felt the shift in the latent aether. She knew Zenos was gone again, and could feel Emet-Selch’s eyes on her.

“Come here,” the Ascian said, half plea and half order. “Let me hold you.”

Summer Ruby hesitated and brushed her fingertip along the dusty edge of an old tome. “Do I have a say in the matter?”

“Please,” Emet-Selch said, sounding close to tears. “Do not torment me so, Percy.”

 _And what of how I feel_? She wondered.


	31. [Echo] Shades of Red

The last bell for the day rings, and the halls of the Praeta Primaria quiet as the students disperse back into the city. She sits at her desk, stretching her arms over her head before looking to the pile of concept crystals that are scattered over the wooden surface. She does not have to touch them to know that most will come to no fruition, but that at least a few will have some kind of well-intentioned novelty etched into their aether. It is part of why she likes teaching. It feeds into the growth of the community as a whole, and the fanciful ideas of their younglings can often be so pleasantly refreshing.

The classroom door is cracked open, but someone still taps their knuckles lightly to it before admitting themselves into the room.

“Miss Percy? Might I trouble you?”

She looks at the speaker and smiles. “Of course, Rigel. I was just going to do some grading.” She gestures at the pile of crystals.

A man, young but nearly done with his classes at Praeta Primaria, enters the room and carefully closes the door behind him. He is a polite young man with a friendly smile, who always seems to have a blush on his cheeks whenever he is near her. That had started years before, when he had been a fledgling student in one of her introductory classes.

She has stopped telling her friends about the various crushes that her students invariably have on her. She has been teaching for a century now, and every few years there is another fresh young buck or doe who takes too much of a fancy to their creative arts instructor. She has stopped telling them about the students, mainly because Hades always reacts sourly to the stories. He is her dearest friend, and already heavily prone to moroseness, so she had thought it better to not give him another cause for unpleasantness.

And, in this case, for the first time in her many years she thinks perhaps she feels something in return. It is a strange feeling, when she has previously spent decades settling to wait for Hades to supplicate to her.

The young man makes his way to her desk. His plain white mask is properly secured in place, but his cowl is down, exposing his long braid of pale platinum hair.

She makes a show of shaking her head in disapproval. “You’re still on campus, Rigel. Why aren’t you properly dressed?”

“Oh.” His cheeks darken, and he half turns to show the back of his head. A measure of his hair is twisted--no, molded--into a simple silvered coronet, splashed prettily with white and gold blossoms. “I had to do a presentation this afternoon for class. About, um, manipulation of one’s own aether as part of creation magic. You know, like how the mages sometimes change their shape when accessing their powers.”

She has seen that firsthand plenty of times when Hades is flaunting his abilities. To be fair, she has done a bit of her own physical flexing when working on larger projects, but is less inclined to show off. She smiles. “Yes, I’m familiar with the subject.” She lightly touches one of the faux blossoms, curious at how they still feel like hair. “It’s lovely work, Rigel.”

He turns back to look at her. “Do you think so? It’s part of my final grade for the class.”

“I’ve heard your professors speak very well of you. One of the best students in your class and a likely candidate for the Akadaemia. You should be proud.”

He looks away and pulls his hood back up into its proper position. “There’s no reason for pride. It’s half gift, and half hard work.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that.” She teases: “May I be proud of you in your stead?”

The young man flusters and shakes his head. “Oh, don’t say such things, Miss Percy.” He hesitates and pulls a small concept crystal from within his robes. “H-here. I made a copy of my presentation for you.”

She gently takes it in hand. The pale green crystal is warm with his aether and body heat. “I look forward to reviewing it.”

“Thank you. I hope you can give me an honest critique. I mean, I know you don’t hold back when editing someone’s work. And, well, my senior professors keep taking off points because my aetheric lattices are sloppy.” He grimaces, as though the term is an affront to his personal being. She laughs softly.

“Of course.” She gets to her feet and pockets the crystal somewhere in her robes. “I’ve been cooped up in here all day. I think it’s time for a walk.” She looks up at him. “Would you like to accompany me?”

“Yes, of course!” Rigel says this very quickly, then stammers awkwardly and looks away. “I mean, if you don’t mind.”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want you to accompany me.”

They leave the building and stroll to one of the parks that dot the campus. It is a pleasant, relaxed place, graced by a myriad of enormous trees and flowering bushes--most of them creations of the Praeta Primaria’s staff and students. Her eyes survey the scattered robed figures as they walk, searching the faint glow of their aether for anyone she recognizes. None of her friends are around, which is a relief. Hythlodaeus has an annoyingly uncanny ability to show up at the most embarrassing and irritating time possible. If he wasn’t usually calling in for work she would think he was doing it on purpose.

Rigel is quiet as they walk among the trees. In the gleam of the afternoon sunlight she can see the color of his aether quite plainly. It is a lovely shade of rusted red, something one would see on the passing band of colors in a sunset.

“A sunset?” Rigel echoes, and she stops short.

“Oh, my apologies. I must have been thinking too loudly again.” She waves a hand and continues walking. “The color of your aether. It’s a very fetching red, did you know that?”

“No,” he says. “I mean, I can see its color, of course. But my family always says it’s just red. Nothing special.”

“Well, if it’s your color red, then it’s special enough. Right?” Hades’ aether is red as well, though something of a deeper hue. She likes the vibrancy of Rigel’s aether.

He blushes again. “I don’t know. I like the color of your soul, Miss Percy. It’s such a nice shade of blue. Like… like the color of the aether in the lab storage jars.”

She chuckles. “You think so?” She has heard that before from Hades. Though, he likes to use more grandiose terms and fancifully calls it ‘the color of creation’. He is always trying to butter her up for something.

“I do,” Rigel says. “It’s beautiful.”

“Ah.” She finds a bench and sits, carefully arranging her robes around her. After a moment or three of hesitation, Rigel sits next to her. Close, but not too close, she notices.

She looks around again, scanning the passerby. There is hardly anyone left now, with classes done for the day. Certainly no one of concern. She looks at one of the big trees near the bench. It is a massive thing, with dark burgundy bark and silvery leaves, and she can still see faint traces of her own aether lingering in its limbs from when she created it decades ago. It is admittedly not her best work, but Hades had lovingly praised it, so she has not made any changes to the tree since then.

She clears her throat, shifting her attention back to the young man at her side. “So, tell me, Rigel. What do you plan to do after you graduate?”

He makes a thoughtful noise, fingers going to his mask. “I haven’t decided yet. There are a few post-graduate programs I’ve been invited to, things at the Akadaemia, but I’m not sure what to pursue just yet.”

“There’s no rush,” she says.

“That’s true.”

They sit in companionable silence for a few minutes. She is acutely aware of his presence, of the burgeoning flush of his aether, of the way he keeps fidgeting his booted feet, of how simply _nice_ he is to sit next to on a bench in the park. His is a balancing presence, and she feels at ease next to him. She moves her hand until it is next to his, and then very slowly extends her pinky finger until it brushes against his.

Rigel gasps softly, his cheeks staining scarlet under the edge of his mask. His hand jerks away as though he’s been stung. “Miss Percy!”

“I was thinking,” she says. “Even after you’ve graduated, I would not mind if you stopped by to say hello now and then.”

“I…” He tips his face to look at her, and she can feel his eyes boring through his mask. “I’d love that, Miss Percy.” He returns his hand to the bench, three of his fingertips touching hers. His skin is warm, as is the bit of aether that creeps out to tentatively seek her own. She gives it, and smiles at the soft gasp that escapes the young man. She barely manages to hold in her own noise of reaction. 

After another furtive glance at their surroundings, she raises her free hand to her mask and releases the aetheric tethers that hold it in place. He makes a startled noise as she lets the mask rest in her lap.

“Tell you what, Rigel. When I’m not working, you can just call me ‘Persephone’. All right?”

His fingers fumble at his own mask as he removes it and rests it on his knee. “I--I--yes, Miss--” He clamps his mouth shut. She is certain her cheeks are as red as his.

“Persephone.”

“Persephone,” he echoes.

They stare at each other. Rigel is a rightly handsome man under his mask, though she finds his eyes to be the most striking feature. His gaze is intense, and his irises are a pale blue, like two flawlessly conjured rings of aquamarine.

“Shit,” she mutters. “You’re beautiful.”

Rigel lets out a nervous laugh. “Is that a bad thing?”

“It could be,” she says. “I’m not supposed to give my address to students.”

“I--” His look is one of confusion for a moment, and then he stutters out a nervous laugh. He reaches a hand toward her bare face, and she holds still as his fingertips slip under the edge of her cowl to snag at a lock of her hair and pull it out into the afternoon light. Her hair gleams like fresh blood across his fingers. “Then, I guess it’s a good thing I graduate soon.”

“That’s right.” She watches as he twists the lock of hair in his fingers.

“I wasn’t expecting red,” he says. “I mean, I don’t know what I was expecting.”

She smiles at him. “You’ve been visiting me regularly for years, and you never considered what was underneath?”

“I did not think I would ever be so blessed as to see,” Rigel says slowly. “So, I chose to use my imagination on my studies.” He lets her hair go. A thin silver vine has twisted around the hair, and sprouted a tiny gold blossom. She sees it and smiles before carefully tucking her hair away.

“A logical response.” She returns her mask to her face, and he does the same.

“Your face is what I expected though,” he says. “Lovely, but a little bit serious. I mean, that’s what I got from talking to you. From being your student.” He smiles. “I bet you’re scary when you’re angry.”

_Be careful where you put your hands, Hades. You know she got written up for breaking my fingers._

_Perhaps, dear Hythlo, you should be more mindful of where you put your fingers._

She chuckles at the suggestion. “I have some friends you can ask about that.”

He takes her hand again, pressing palm to palm. She can feel the tickle of his aether against her skin once more, and meets his question with her answering flutter of aether. The energy meets, trapped between their hands, twisting together. Not fighting for dominance, no, but more to test compatibility. She has always thought it a subjective thing, but could also not deny that the results of ‘the test’ definitely varied from person to person. When they were younger and still in school together, Hades had been excessively fond of this contact. She and Hades were completely aetherically compatible, but neither of them could hold Hythlodaeus’ hand for more than a few seconds before feeling uncomfortable and having to let go. She is still not sure if he causes that reaction on purpose, but it made dating a challenge.

Hades loved to hold her hand back then. He said he could not focus on his schoolwork without it--and this had become so constant in his studies that she had ended up having to learn to write with her left hand, just so she could still get her own book work done while her right hand was in his thrall. Hythlodaeus still teases them about it, decades upon decades later. When Hades is being excessively smarmy, their friend will lean in and ask if he needs to _hold someone’s hand_. That usually gets him smacked in the arm, but also helps lighten Hades’ mood. 

Hades still loves to hold her hand.

She can tell, from the gentle, playful push me-pull you way that their aether interacts, that she and Rigel are definitely aetherically compatible. The interaction makes her feel warm deep down inside, in a place that usually goes untouched.

She smiles.

Eventually they part ways, and she returns to her little apartment in the residential district. As she enters the space she calls out:

“Hades! I’m home! Sorry I’m late. Had a lot of concepts to look over.”

He has let himself into her apartment and indulged in a nap on her couch, as is his wont. Hades always insists that his assigned apartment is haunted--or rather, stuck in a location that makes it difficult for him to tune out the Underworld and sleep. He says her apartment is in a better location. She is pretty certain he’s full of shit, as they live only two blocks apart, but has humored him about this for decades.

His white mask rests on the coffee table, and his bare face is pillowed on his arms. The snowy white locks of his hair have escaped from their braid and are a scattered mess. She smiles as she sets down her work bag. 

“Hades, Hades.” She touches his cheek, and he murmurs in protest. “Hey, hon. I’m home. Wake up.”

Hades cracks open his golden eyes and smiles at her. It is the kind of adoring smile a man should give his lover, she thinks, and not his best friend. She thinks this, but says nothing. After all, he has always settled for jealous sniping at her distractions, and never made a move himself. Not even letting Hythlodaeus court her had been enough of a push. And now he is too busy to do much more than work, she thinks. He will likely always be this way. 

She briefly wonders if Rigel would be the sort to be able to step away from work for her.

“Welcome home,” Hades says. He pushes himself into a seated position and stretches his arms over his head. He combs his fingers through his hair, but does not yet retrieve his mask. She doesn’t mind--he is her dearest friend, and she greatly enjoys the handsome subtleties of his face over the boring sameness of the mask. He smiles as she removes her mask and sets it next to his on the table. “I was going to make some tea for you, but you ran late.”

“I don’t mind,” she says. “Did you just come over to nap?”

Hades blushes and shakes his head. He pats at his robes until he finds a crystal tucked away in one of his pockets. “I wanted you to review my application to the Convocation.”

She takes the crystal when he holds it out and watches the aether dance along its surface. The crystal is flawless, a masterwork of his own creation. She smiles and sits next to him on the couch. “The honorable Emet-Selch, eh?”

“The current Emet-Selch is retiring to a violet sanded beach of her own making,” Hades says. “Hythlo suggested I apply. I said he should.”

“You’re both very qualified.”

“I know.” He takes her right hand in his left. She smiles at the familiar curl of his aether against hers. “I probably won’t even get considered.”

She squeezes his hand. “You never know.”


	32. Love is Madness

When she awakened the sky was dark outside the milky window panes of the old shack. Summer Ruby lay in the darkness, trying to focus on her dreams, on the tangle of memories that they had tried to present to her. There had been Hades, of course, pale and petulant. But there had been someone else, hadn’t there? Earlier in the dream--a quietly handsome young man with a shy touch and hair like silvered starlight. The thought of him stirred something warm and wanting in her memory. He had been--

Her musing was interrupted by a flicker of lightning in the windows, and its pursuant rumble of thunder.

It was still raining, steady and unrelenting, and part of her wondered if the foul weather was natural or the workings of the old sorcerer that slumbered at her side. Such a feat would not be beyond him, she thought, even bound in Zenos’ body. No, not bound. Emet-Selch had enshrined himself in the flesh of his great-grandson, and wore it like a mantle with the self-assurance of a king lounging on his throne.

Summer Ruby sat up, and as her eyes adjusted to the darkness she looked down at him. She hoped, just a bit, that it would not be the Ascian she saw in the dim light, and that it would be Zenos. But it was not; it was still Emet-Selch. He was lying on his stomach, right hand extended toward her, fingertips half curled in the soft sheets between them. He was frowning in his sleep, and she wondered if that was his expression, or Zenos’ feelings creeping through the glamour.

She sat in the darkness, again quietly attempting to permit her dreams to steep into her thoughts and permeate into her memory. She looked down at the sleeping man next to her and remembered him, remembered Hades, how as they grew older his favorite places to nap had been within her realm of being. How had he ever gotten any sleep at all after the Sundering? Perhaps he hadn’t, not really, perhaps that was why when she had encountered him on the First he almost always held a public air of being exhausted and irritated. Maybe he was.

She sighed softly and drew her fingertips over the white forelock of hair that had half fallen into his face. She was reluctantly aware of the fondness she felt when looking at the man. The fondness, the persisting affection that stirred that was both not hers and entirely hers at the same time. The feelings were slowly drifting together to a point of confluence.

And yet, when she looked at him, she sometimes still felt a pang of fear.

What was going to happen to her? To Zenos? To Aymeric? To everyone else she held in her heart? What would happen when Emet-Selch realized, voluntarily or no, that he could not have her all to himself? She wanted to flee, wanted to teleport back to the cold embrace of Ishgard. But to do so was to invite a greater danger back to it than Zenos had ever been. If she went back now, without Emet-Selch’s blessing, there was no way of telling how he might retaliate. She did not know how much power he had in himself at the current time, but he could still draw whatever dwelled in Zenos’ body. He could push the younger man’s spirit out and destroy it. He could come again to Ishgard and likely kill Aymeric, kill Merle, kill everyone in the city with just an angry snap of his fingers. There was no way to know that he wouldn’t do this, that he would not burn the imperfect world around them just to keep her for himself. He had waited so very long for her, he would say, he had suffered for so long. Emet-Selch would say she was something he deserved.

She shivered and moved to pull her hand away, but strong fingers were grasping now at her wrist, and his eyes opened. The gold of his irises gleamed in the dark and fixed on her after the first blink. Summer Ruby stared down at him, and hoped he could not see her fear.

“Good morning, my dear,” he murmured. Summer Ruby swallowed and broke the line of their gaze to look at the window again.

“Is it morning?” she wondered aloud. “It’s still so dark out.”

“Just nearly,” he said. His thumb stroked along the base of her palm in a motion that was a bit too rough to be considered a gentle caress. “What wakes you so early?”

“A dream,” she said. “Just a dream.” Summer Ruby kept her gaze on the window, not wanting Emet-Selch to realize that her dreams were not exclusively about him.

“More memories?” His tone was hopeful.

She thought of the handsome young man who wove flowers from his aether. “I believe so, yes.” She flexed her fingers, but Emet-Selch did not release his grip on her hand. “I won’t remember everything in my life, will I? I mean, no one remembers their day to days from every moment of their life. I can’t say I want to remember decades of less than pertinent Convocation meetings where my words go half ignored and the only real highlight is watching to see how long you can nap during the elders’ elocutions before it goes noticed.”

Emet-Selch chuckled. “That was nearly every meeting, I’m afraid, so I would hope you didn’t have to recall them all. I’ve certainly done my best to forget most of them.” His thumb stroked again, lower, pressing against her pulse. “You will mostly just remember the important things, or some version of the daily mundanities that occurred so many thousands of times that you cannot help but recall them.”

“You mean like coming home from the Praeta and finding you asleep on my couch?”

“To be fair, you had a very comfortable couch, and it could be very difficult to nap when my roommate enjoyed very loud dramatic readings of popular literature.”

“Hythlo wasn’t that loud,” she said. At a soft laugh from Emet-Selch, she looked away from the window and back down at him. His expression was relaxed, and a fond smile rested on his sleepy face. “I don’t know why you’re so rough on Hythlodaeus. He loved you. I daresay he loved you far more than he cared for me.”

The pressure on her wrist relaxed. “So you’re saying that the three of us were just a mess of love-dumb idiots.”

“That is the impression that I’ve gotten from my memories so far, yes.” She considered the man’s expression. “Can I ask you something, Emet-Selch?”

“Of course. Anything I can do to help.” He set her hand down between them on the sheet. “I know you’re afraid of me, darling, but I swear, I mean you no harm.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“I’m afraid you’re scarcely doing anything to really hide it from me.”

“I’m not afraid for myself,” she said. “You said you wouldn’t harm me, and I believe you. I want to believe you. But I fear for the safety and the lives of those I care about.”

His eyes darkened for a moment. In a low voice he asked: “What about me, Percy? Don’t you care about me?”

She hesitated and stared into his eyes. “It would be easier to freely care about you now, to be glad of your return, if you were not inhabiting the body of someone I care about.”

Emet-Selch’s lips twisted. “So, you would be falling into my arms were I to find some other person to occupy? Some stranger who meant nothing to you?”

Summer Ruby refused to rise to his wicked bait. “With the state that this world is in, certainly you could find someone who was a willing donor. Someone who wanted to die.”

“That’s quite a morbid statement coming from the Warrior of Light.”

She swallowed. “I am not blind to the despair around me.” She frowned. “Not even yours.”

His grip renewed and he tugged her down atop of him. “Such sweet words, hero.”

“Hades…”

Emet-Selch’s hands moved to grasp at her hips and hold them flush to his own. “Tell me something, my most meticulous Matrisiram, when we were far younger, still in our school days. If I had offered myself to you and expressed my desire to be your partner, would you have said yes to me?”

“In an instant.” She spoke without hesitation. “I was always waiting for you, Hades. For decades and decades. I waited for you to say something, even a simple slip when we were working off some stress. But, you never did. You held your tongue for too long.”

He frowned. “You could have said something.”

“I did. I said everything I could short of just being up front with you about it.”

She watched his eyes flick to the side and back, as though he were scanning through some ancient store of buried memories. “It would be a lie for me to say I did not know how you felt.”

“Then why did you never ask?” She thumped the heel of her hand against his chest. “I just wanted you to ask!”

Emet-Selch grimaced. “I was afraid to, alright? What if you had said no? I wouldn’t have been able to handle that rejection!” He huffed unhappily. “Besides, you dated Hythlo through most of school.”

“Only because he _asked_ me, Hades.”

He winced again, as though her simple words were too much for him. “That was all it took?”

“I don’t think I would have even required that much from you.”

Emet-Selch closed his eyes. His head flopped back into the pillow. “All the genius I was bestowed with, and I was a damned idiot.”

“I’m afraid so.”

For a long while he was silent, brows furrowed as though he were in pain. She settled her weight lightly against his, ears pitched to listen to the rain outside. She heard a low, distant growl of thunder, and then Emet-Selch’s soft exhale.

“May I kiss you?”

She blinked. “What?”

He repeated: “May I kiss you, Percy?”

Summer Ruby felt a jolt through her soul--a strange certainty that told her he had never, ever, not in the centuries of their intertwined lives had he ever asked to kiss her. There was a flutter in her breast, a strange mixture of confusion and happiness and the faintest hint of resentment.

“You’ve never asked to before, Em--” She stopped. Something in her heart told her to _shut up and let the fool kiss you_. “Yes. Please.”

His slender fingers grabbed at her face and pulled it in to his own. She had felt this connection so many times before--his aether twining into hers, to have, to hold, to protect, to claim--but unlike before he did not settle for pressing his soft lips to her forehead, her hair, her chin--

She leaned into the kiss, leaned into the taste of him, and felt something shatter with delight inside her soul.

“I care not how broken you remain,” Emet-Selch groaned into her mouth. “I will never let you go. I will never be so foolish again.”

She gasped: “ _Hades!_ ”

He gently rolled them over, she onto her back, he kneeling over her, straddling her waist. His aether, roiling black and red, flowed down over her and distracted her attention as his hands moved to push at the folds of fabric that covered her body. He kissed her again, and in his agitation lifted a hand to snap their attire away. His aether sparked fire in her veins wherever it touched her skin, and she opened herself to him without hesitation.

It was strange how this reminded her of their nights together on the First. Of his back awkwardly arched over her height, his face pressed into her hair, his voice singing out words that she could not understand. But now the melodic tone of his voice groaned out in a language she could understand--praising her beauty and how marvelous she felt on him, oh yes yes just like that, and please, please don’t leave him again. Yes, it was a song she had heard before, on the First, but now she could understand. Now she could sing back to him the same tune, had not her cries been blissful and wordless.

Only some small part of her, a bit that managed to remain undistracted, noticed the little differences. Emet-Selch’s actions were the same, but the body re-enacting them was different. His glamour could not mask certain things, not in moments like this. The aether gathering around their tangle of thighs was different, and the cock thrusting into her was definitely too large to be that of Emet-Selch--

She clenched on him, muscles seizing after a particularly vigorous thrust. 

“Ahn--Zenos!” 

He stilled over her, and was like the silence after a clap of thunder by the time she’d realized her mistake.

“Why--” Emet-Selch panted. “Why did you say that?!”

“I didn’t mean to say--” She was silenced by a heavy hand clamped over her mouth. He grimaced down at her.

“You said exactly what you meant to say. So why did you say _his_ name?” He pulled his hand away. “Don’t lie to me, Percy.”

Her flesh was still alight with his nearness, and despite the rush of fear she found it difficult to focus on an answer. “It wasn’t your aether. It’s not your aether, it’s Zenos’ aether.”

“Don’t be daft.” He sneered as he snapped his hips forward. “I think I know what my own aether feels like, and it is not the same as that boy’s.”

Her fingers clenched in the bedcovers as she tried not to react vocally to his movements. “I know the difference, too! I--ah--I remember you on the First. When you would cover me with your shadows, and comfort me.” 

He stilled again, staring down at her. He whispered: “I didn’t want you to suffer.” The anger faded from his eyes, and Summer Ruby managed to unclench the fingers of her left hand so that she might press her palm against his cheek.

“I know. You did what you could. You helped me more than you needed to, and I didn’t understand why. I did not deserve your kindness, not for how I repaid it.”

“Do not worry over that,” Emet-Selch said. “It is passed now, my dear. I helped you out of selfishness.” He closed his eyes and pressed himself into her touch. “I know it was selfish of me, to indulge in my love’s embrace, when I knew we were doomed to destroy each other.”

A flutter of warmth coiled around her fingers, and she knew this was Emet-Selch’s aether, and not that of his desperate host. She could _feel_ the color, the deep red, like the richest and most indulgent of imperial silks, could feel that aether drape itself against her skin now. It was not the wild, vibrant red of Zenos’ aether, feral and fluttering like rose petals scattering in the wind.

She cried out when Emet-Selch sighed and shifted his weight forward.

“H-Hades!”

He opened his eyes, distracted from his thoughts. “Percy?”

Her body quivered, and she clenched around his lingering intrusion. “Are you going to finish?”

Emet-Selch did not mask his surprise. “You wish me to?”

She smiled up at him and laughed. “Of course I do, you idiot!”

When they were done she remained awake at his side. Emet-Selch dozed off again, a satisfied smile on his lips, and she was left to stare at the ceiling and watch the shadows shift as another rainy day dawned. Her mind, left to wander, thought of the days she and Zenos had spent here in this remote location. They felt so very long ago, and even though it had only been perhaps five or six weeks her newly recalled memories mingled and muddied just how long it had been. She thought of Zenos, and of what she could only now see as his early, clumsy declarations of his love for her. 

Had he known then?

Summer Ruby shifted her gaze down from the ceiling to the man at her side. Her eyes happened upon a broad bare chest and long golden hair--Emet-Selch’s recent snap had been as thorough as it had felt. The Ascian must have relaxed his control in order to get more rest, she thought, but not enough to let the other man stir. Summer Ruby stared at his serene face. She leaned down and whispered in his ear.

“I want to go home, Zenos. Back to Ishgard. And I want you to go as well, and stay in Ishgard. Make it your home.” She touched his cheek. “We just have to figure out how to get back safely.”

She settled down next to him again on the covers, thinking: She just had to work out how to stay Emet-Selch’s ire at Zenos and her husband.

Many malms away, amid the snowy reaches of Ishgard, Aymeric stared down at his son in his crib. The little half-elf was fast asleep, oblivious to the discord that had filled his parents’ lives. He adjusted his housecoat and bent, pulling the child up carefully from the crib and folding him in his arms. Merle murred in his sleep but did not stir.

Ser Orage had insisted that it was no trouble for him to continue looking after the child while Summer Ruby was ‘out on some venture’, but after the first night Aymeric had found himself too miserable to be alone. So he had retrieved his son and brought him home to the quiet manor. Aymeric did not leave the house. He simply reported that he had taken ill and cancelled his meetings for the remainder of the week. No one had argued with him over it--those who had seen him reported that he did look unusually pale and quite under the weather.

He sat in the old cushioned armchair and hugged Merle to his chest. The boy slept on peacefully, aside from an occasional uncomfortable gnashing of his little baby teeth. Aymeric closed his eyes and let his head fall back into the cushion. The chair smelled like his wife, he thought, of the strange way she always smelled like the lingering warmth of a camp fire. He sighed unhappily, unable to calm his mind.

The Ascian had died, she had told him, had assured him that he had fallen at her hand. But then, lying in bed a few hours after her return from her foray with Zenos, she had tucked her face into his neck and told him something had gone wrong. The Ascian’s soul had not departed as it should and had instead burrowed into her head and nested there for the last several months. And now he, that _Emet-Selch_ from the First, had escaped and taken control of Zenos’ body. Aymeric would be the first to admit to not being extremely keen on Zenos, but he would not have wished such a fate on the man.

Because he made Summer Ruby happy.

The Warrior of Light suffered so much, Aymeric thought. She needed all the happiness that she could get. No, she did not need protection from the physical battles of the world, but he had seen how badly she suffered emotionally for them. He had nearly been blind to it, but now Aymeric wanted nothing more than for his wife to be home and safe and happy and--Fury forgive him--if that took including Zenos in her list of needs then so be it. He had been a fool to think that he could help her on his own. Not for lack of love--Aymeric knew that his duties to Ishgard would always prevent him from being with her as much as he desired. Love was crucial, yes, but so were friendship and companionship.

Even he had Estinien to begrudgingly hug him and offer consoling. The dragoon had stopped by earlier in the day to check on him and tell him he looked a mess. Aymeric had reluctantly told him what had happened--that an Ascian had appeared and spirited his wife away--and Estinien had immediately set off out of Ishgard to search for her. To where, Aymeric had no idea, but he appreciated the sentiment.

When he started to feel drowsy, Aymeric got up from the chair and carefully returned his son to the crib. He looked around the master bedroom, mind heavy with worry drifting into dread. Where had the Ascian taken Summer Ruby? What was he going to do to her? What if he never returned her, and kept her secreted away somewhere forever. What if Aymeric never saw his beloved again? He wasn’t sure what he would do. He half wished that the Garlean _were_ here--Zenos would know how to find her, how to bring her back to them.

He reached the bedroom and sat heavily on the bed--on her side of the bed. Aymeric lowered his head and dug his fingertips into his hair. What was he supposed to do? He had no idea where Summer Ruby had been taken. Why had the Ascian taken her away, rather than just killing him? There had been malice in the man’s pale yellow eyes. He had spent enough time in combat and in political assemblages to be able to tell when a man wanted him dead. What would happen to him, to little Merle, if Emet-Selch changed his mind and came back to finish them off? What kind of cruelty was that?

“Oh, Halone,” Aymeric murmured, nails nearly stabbing into his scalp. “Fury, I am your most humble of servants. Hear my plea. I care not what fate befalls me, but please, please do not let anything happen to my wife and child.” He felt the hot streaks of tears along his cheeks. “Please.”

There was no audible reply, of course. The gods did not work in such a fashion.

Aymeric sighed and pulled his hands free from his hair. He rubbed at his face, smearing the lines of his tears until his fingertips were meshed over his lips.

“Summer. I swore to be your shield, your knight, and there was nothing I could do.”

He let a crestfallen sigh escape his lips, and flopped over onto her pillow. For a moment he buried his face in the pale blue silk, inhaling her scent again, dwelling on their times spent together in this place, as though if he just focused on her hard enough he could will her back into existence here in Ishgard. He slid his hand underneath the softness of the pillow to draw it in closer, but the movement was checked when his fingertips passed over a bumpy object.

From under the pillow he retrieved what looked, at a passing glance, to be a beaded necklace. A closer look revealed its true nature, and Aymeric could not help but let out a gasp. He held in his hands a long string of ice-blue beads, carved with Halonic glyphs, the edges worn smooth with handling. A rosary--the one he had gifted to Summer Ruby when they had first started courting. He had not known that she had kept the rosary with her for all the time since. It was strange, Aymeric thought as he tenderly handled the beads, but the rosary felt warm, as though it had only recently left the sanctity of her body heat. As though some part of her had stayed behind to be with him.

Tears still stinging his cheeks, Aymeric rolled the beads between his fingers and prayed.


	33. [Echo] Meet Me on the Battlefield

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This Echo/Dream chapter starts grim, and gets darker. It contains violence, death, and the dark progress of fate.

In the initial moment she thinks she is dreaming, but as the colors sharpen into focus she realizes that it is not as simple as a dream. Something has activated her Echo while she sleeps, and allows her--no, _forces_ her, no looking away--to peer into the dreams of another. This type of privacy invasion has always bothered her in the past, and initially this time is no different.

At first there is a man, solidly built but unremarkable. He has hair the color of honey in the sun, but it is streaked with blood, as is his light armor and the spear in his hands. He stands amongst his peers, and together they listen to the words of the battlemaiden. The maiden is a fearsome sight to behold, garbed red in the blood of their opposition from head to toe, a severed head hanging by its matted hair from her left hand. Fearsome, and yet watching him, She the Observer is quite certain that the soldier feels no fear of her in his breast, just admiration and something that might be love were it not so bloodthirsty.

 _Praise her_ , the soldiers cry out. _Praise Halone, the Fury given flesh!_

He goes to her while she bathes after another battle. He is unafraid and the maiden is amused by his zeal. She holds him by the hair as he presses his prayers for their goddess to her breasts and leaves his offerings between her thighs. He loves her, but she is as unknowable as their goddess, forever distant, forever looking forward to the next battlefield. He stays at her side through the whole campaign, until the region is secured and no one remains to oppose them.

All does not remain well for the battlemaiden. It cannot for one as her. The loving fear and admiration of her followers turns into distrust as the weather grows foul, windy days bleeding into weeks and weeks of storms that do not end. The people grow fearful, and they turn on her.

He turns on her, too.

He leads the conspirators to her chambers. The battlemaiden is pleased to see him, but that pleasure swiftly shifts to confusion and anger and then the darkest pain of betrayal as the men stab their spears into her breast. His is the third and final stab. It pierces her heart, and her body goes lax, dark eyes fixed forever on his face. She does not understand his actions. He weeps as the Light leaves her eyes. Just a mortal woman, the maiden was. No goddess given flesh.

His death follows not long later, as the storms of the Calamity worsen and he is struck dead in the street by a bolt from the firmament.

The scene shifts, and for a moment she is lost, confused, thinking perhaps time has rewound itself, showing another possibility. But, no, the Echo tells that this is not the case. This is a different man, she realizes, his hair darker and longer, twisted into a braid laced with a harvest’s worth of flowers. His body is long and lithe, the hands that clutch the healer’s staff having never known any sort of combat beyond the daily struggle to keep the living as such.

There is a woman, beautiful to him as the moon in the night sky. She is brought to the temple, deathly ill with the sickness that has already taken so many. He recognizes her from the village a quarter day’s walk from the temple. A pious woman, hair red as the pomegranates sold only at that village’s market, but only a few wisps of it visible when they escape from the confines of her cloak. He oversees as the women of the temple strip her down and bathe her, hoping to cleanse her of her sickness. He will be expected to perform the healing rituals on her, to try and force the Light back into her failing body. And he will, even though he knows it will not work. It has never worked.

A man he does not know leans in observation against a column. He does not recognize the man, but She the Observer does. She knows the man, recognizes his slumped posture and eyes that burn with the heavenly gold of a sunset. What is he doing here? Why is he not helping?

 _She does not have long_ , the stranger says. _The sickness came upon her faster than the others_.

He asks the stranger if she is known to him, and the man nods, expression fracturing into remorse as he closes his eyes and turns his face away.

When the woman has been cleansed, he kneels at her side. Her skin is hot to the touch, as though the fever in her body were ready to burst forth and set the whole star ablaze. She is weak, so very weak, her eyes barely opening at his words. He sets his staff on the ground and crouches over her, whispering his apologies, telling her that he could give her the healing rites, but that it will do nothing for her. She smiles, a faint curvature of her pale lips, and closes her eyes. She whispers that the flowers that crown his hair are beautiful.

And then her fire is snuffed out, and she is gone.

Her body is burned on the pyre that evening. His body will follow in only a few days time. And then the entire world will be consumed by the next Calamity’s inferno.

The heat of the Calamity is fearsome, and she is glad when it fades and the scene resets itself. When her senses settle she is surprised by the scenery. She knows it, knows the strange blue glow of the crystalline structures of the Allagan empire, recognizes the towering spires of the Crystal Tower, looking much the same as they will five thousand years later and beyond.

At first, it seems the Ascian Emet-Selch is the focus of this dream. For several long minutes she watches the man pace about in his Allagan robes, gesturing theatrically while speaking to one of the Emperor’s advisors. It is disconcerting--the man’s face is wrong, the body is a temporary holding and he has not bothered reshaping it to his liking--but it is definitely him.

There is a man standing near her, she realizes, and he is the one watching the Ascian’s performance. His blue eyes are cold and uncaring, and he is little more than another one of the palace’s automations as he stands in his guard uniform and watches. He is not entirely paying attention. His mind is on something else.

Eventually Emet-Selch stops his ranting. His posture stiffens, and he turns and nearly bolts from the meeting hall. The advisor shakes her head and mutters about the strange old man, and leaves to present a report to the Emperor. A few minutes later there is a soft chiming _ping_ from the delicate device strapped to the guard’s wrist armor, and he startles.

The world stutters around her as she follows him, out of the meeting room, out of the palace, through the blinding blue glow of the city streets. Even in her dreamstate she can scarcely keep up with the man as he runs to a destination she does not know. Eventually he reaches what looks to be some sort of housing building, like the Topmast apartments of Limsa Lominsa, but far more ostentatious. She is dimly aware, in passing, of the Ascian standing near the main door, eyes focused on the entrance, hands balled at his sides. She does not know why he is here, does not know what is holding him back, and does not have time to deliberate further as she follows the guard inside. They go up an elevator to one of the higher floors.

It is eerily quiet here, as though the whole star were holding its breath. And then they hear a sob of pain that spurs the man to bolt to a door and throw it open. She follows, but does not want to. She recognizes the sound.

The midwife is there at the door, apologies on her lips and blood coating her hands and robes.

 _I’m sorry, there is nothing I can--_ The midwife sees the manic look in his eyes and cries out in terror. He ignores her as she flees the scene, and instead enters the apartment.

There is a woman on the bed. She is beautiful, one of the ladies of the court brought from some other part of the empire to keep the Emperor entertained. An Elezen beauty, skin like white marble, hair a queen’s ransom of rubies, and long graceful limbs that he has seen dance for both entertainment and pleasure. She is like a broken doll now, body twisted in agony, skin even paler than it might normally be and stained with blood and sweat. The source of her misery, his misery, is lodged inside her swollen belly, unable to escape.

Blood soaks the bedcovers. So much of it as to seem impossible. He throws off his helmet and gloves as he hastens to the bedside. His hands take gentle hold of her cheeks and turn her face toward his. She mewls out his name, tone apologetic, and he cries out hers in return.

She the Observer wants to look away but cannot. It hurts too much, is too close to her own reality. It is too painful a reminder of how her husband did not leave her side, weeping in despair and frustration as the chirurgeon’s spells refused to work, and the bleeding did not stop.

The guard weeps as well, his face close enough to hers as though reaching for a kiss. He weeps, body shuddering, as she whispers things to him, gentle reassurances that only he is meant to hear. A faint smile is painted on her bloodless lips as she dies, and her eyes never leave his face. His wails-- _despair, heartbreak, anger_ \--disturb the neighbors, and deliver the news to the Ascian still lingering in the street below.

He does not have to wait long until the Ascians’ machinations come to fruition, and the Crystal Tower itself fails and brings about the next Calamity. When he dies, crushed under a fallen pillar, he does not care. He is glad to die, to be free of the void that has replaced his heart--

She feels ill when the scene fades and shifts again. She is tired of this dream, tired of this Echo, this bloodstained memory that she does not want to take part in. She does not have a choice as the next scene starts.

It is dark. Unnaturally so, as though something were wrong with playback of the memory. She follows a man dressed in gray and black down a quiet hallway. They are passing through the house of a statesman that has fallen out of favor. He has been sent to kill the man. The gray-garbed man moves with certainty through the building, and does not stop until he reaches the door to the master suite.

The statesman is seated on the edge of his bed when the door is opened. He is a handsome enough man, getting into his years. His hair is black, and there are white hairs beginning to creep into his neatly groomed beard. His hair is black, yes, but for a strange streak of scarlet that arcs from his left brow and fading into the rest of his hair.

 _Red, like the blood of their enemies,_ the man’s thoughts whisper to her. _Red, like the flame of their love_. But that is all long dead and in the past, now. 

The statesman seems to have been expecting him. His smile is somehow both reserved and welcoming at the same time.

The statesman’s smile does not falter. _I knew they were sending someone soon_ , he says. _I should have guessed they would send you. I’m glad it is you._

He has to do this. He has already accepted payment. There is only a faint, distant spark of regret in his heart as he draws his sword and enters the room.

_Do you remember what I said, the last time we saw each other?_

He nods. It was decades ago, now, but still fresh in his mind.

 _I’m sorry for what I said to you that night,_ the statesman says. Now the smile wavers. _I didn’t mean it. I always wanted to see you again. So, I’m glad I got this chance. You still have the most beautiful eyes--_

The statesman is silenced as the assassin's blade pierces his heart. He strikes hard, mercilessly, the ribs on both sides cracking and splintering as the blade runs through its mark.

The Light fades from the statesman’s eyes.

There is nothing left for the man in gray.

One Calamity has passed and another is already underway when the Echo aligns itself once more. Rain pours in ceaseless bands, and the rivers overflow, steadily blurring the line between land and sea. The man she finds herself watching is of small stature but noticeable power. A scholar, from the looks of his clothing. Watching, the Echo tells her his truth. He was a Scholar of Nym, experienced with leading his unit of Royal Marines into many a battle. But he had cast that all aside, disposing of his soul crystal and abandoning the city-state when when the plague began to spread.

He had fled, driven on by his horror and revulsion of the green _things_ his fellows turned into. He has escaped, but now his power fades from him, and he is lost in the constantly changing landscape. He has been a coward, but has ceased to care.

His wandering has led him to the current shore of the Indigo Deep. Its waters are black and beckoning. As they reach the rocky edge of what once was a cliff overlooking the rising waters, both he and She the Observer are struck by the sensation that they are not alone. They are being watched. She the Observer knows that if it were possible for her to look behind them, she would find the Ascian standing watch. 

He notices a waterlogged figure a few dozen yalms down the shore. Making his way closer, he sees that it is the figure of a young woman. She is soaked to the bone and barely managing to cling to a small outcrop of stone. He stops and watches her, his expression indifferent. She notices him and calls, pleads for his aid.

He does not move.

A wave crashes over the young woman, the sea hungry for another offering. She loses her grip and is immediately pulled yalms out into the water by the current. She lets out a single, final plea for succor, but he does not answer the call.

He only watches as she sinks helplessly into the depths, disappearing from the world, her soul to sleep for an age. Lost to him, lost to the world, for fifteen hundred years. He loses sight of her, and feels nothing. He does not know if he will ever feel anything again.

The next scene is in a training center somewhere. Its designs imply Garlean make, but the scenery outside the windows demark a place too warm to be Garlemald. There are several dozen soldiers present, busy in various forms of training. The commander on duty is busy insulting one of the soldiers--a solidly built Hyur woman, from the looks of it a conscript from one of the conquered nations. Her angry countenance and vivid tattoos imply somewhere in the Ala Mhigan lands. There is something familiar about the woman that She the Observer cannot quite place.

The tirade of the commanding officer stalls as the door to the training room opens to admit another player to the scene. The Echo tells her: He was standing outside the door, listening to the commander. It tells her that _this_ is the one she has been waiting for the final appearance of, through so many agonizing renewals.

Zenos yae Galvus enters the room.

The commander is immediately at attention as the crown prince strides into the room. She cannot help but creep closer. She knows this is but a memory, yet she is not certain he will not somehow notice her presence. He is young, younger than she knows him in the waking world. Just past his twentieth nameday, golden hair pulled into a low ponytail at the nape of his neck, and wearing armor gifted to him by his great-grandsire. His youthful face is beautiful, but already cold and bored with its existence. 

Deference is offered to the young man--they had not been expecting an inspection. Zenos is dismissive. He had merely been passing by, and was curious about the cause of the rather colorful language the commander had been throwing at one of the soldiers. The commander waves his concern away. Just trouble getting some of the newer soldiers to fall into line. He indicates the Ala Mhigan woman.

She is not a small woman, but the prince still looms over her. She is a growling beast in his eyes, teeth set in a snarl and hands clenched into fists at her sides. She screams at him, calling him a monster, and throws a punch. He blocks it without blinking, fingers curling to encompass her fist so tightly that the joints of her hand audibly pop. He throws her into the wall. The other soldiers, commander included, all take notice and flinch away.

“She will be sent to the VIIIth,” Zenos said, voice unmoved by his own actions. “Let her die with the rest of them.”

He is there, briefly, among the fighting at Carteneau. The battle is a joyous thing to him. He wants to face whatever is breaking its way out of Dalamud, but the opportunity never presents itself before the ones assigned as his honor guard drag him far, far from the field by force. He is there when that Ala Mhigan woman dies, though he does not see it happen, and would not care if he did, for he has already forgotten her.

She the Observer knows this, although she is suddenly aware that the knowledge is not part of the Echo.

It is from her own memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, I have been waiting several months to share this chapter! And so I share it today, my little old b-day.  
> :scree:


	34. Where Forever Died

The sound of rain was nigh thunderous in her ears when Summer Ruby awoke. She returned to consciousness with a gasp, and she continued to gasp, lungs aching with each breath. There did not seem to be enough air in the room. Her eyes went to the form resting peacefully next to her on the bed. Zenos: his eyes closed, black lashes fanning across his cheeks, hair an absolute mess. She started to reach for him but checked the motion--her dream was too fresh, and he was too close. She had to get away.

Summer Ruby slid out of bed, careful not to jostle its other occupant into waking. She climbed down the ladder to the ground floor, unhooked the latch on the door, and stepped outside. The world outside was a dim dark gray, the first lights of morning struggling past the black curtain of clouds. She stepped out from underneath the overhang that sheltered the stairs. The rain bit at her ears, and they flinched and folded back against the downpour. The ground was covered in water, all flowing steadily down to the nearby cliff face. She stumbled out along the slick ground until she reached the closest of the warm springs and sat. Despite the chill of the rain, there remained a persistent bit of warmth seeping in with the thermally heated waters rising up from below.

She wrapped her arms around her legs and pressed her face against her knees.

“What the hells,” she finally wheezed, nearly inaudible over the rain. “What the seven fucking hells.” Summer Ruby shuddered. “What is even going on in my head?”

Her mind stumbled back to the dream, the visceral, dark, awful string of Echoes. The memories of Zenos, of the pieces of his soul, struggling for millennia, only to fail and fall deeper and deeper into the cold dark pit that his heart had been thrown into. How cruel and uncaring were the gods, to have let his heart be dashed upon the rocks so many times? It was no small wonder he had eventually been reborn as a Garlean.

She huddled there for some time, the sky growing grayer by degrees. The rain did not relent. After a while she heard the door creak open. Aether reached out for her, tentative, brushing against a downturned ear.

“Zenos,” she whispered.

“What are you doing out here?”

“I just needed some fresh air,” Summer Ruby said. “I had a bad dream.”

The Garlean sat next to her, blond hair already soaked through and plastered in thick strands to his pale face. “I will listen, if you need to talk about it.”

She looked at him, at his quiet demeanor. “Is he asleep?”

“For now, yes. The old man rests. I suppose you wore him out yesterday.”

She looked away, at the water cascading from heights above. “It was just a thing.”

“I know. I felt you.”

“I--” She clamped her jaw shut and looked back at Zenos. He looked tired, she thought, as though sitting up and maintaining the stilted conversation was taking all of his energy and focus. “Are you okay?”

“He is draining my aether faster than I can restore it, as he does not eat much.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“‘Tis not your fault, Aesta.”

Summer Ruby swallowed at a thickness in her throat, and reached to brush a clinging lock of hair from his face. “Tell me, Zenos. What have you remembered?”

He hesitated, pale eyes shifting to gaze out at the silhouette of the distant volcano. “I don’t know to what you refer.”

“Surely you’ve been listening to what Emet-Selch and I speak of. You’ve had dreams too, Zenos. You told me so. What have you remembered?”

He lifted a hand and wiped the water from his thick lashes. “I remember nothing come the morning.”

“Please, be honest with me.”

His body tensed, and she worried that perhaps they had woken Emet-Selch. Zenos closed his eyes and rubbed at his third eye. “What does it matter? If I recall something from some past life, it does not matter. It is all long dead and gone. All we have is right now, and right now I am stuck with that old madman holding my soul hostage.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry.”

“You needn’t apologize. I told you: this is not your fault.”

“I cannot help but feel that it is.” _I got you killed, didn’t I_? She thought.

Zenos shook his head. “If you did, it does not matter.”

Summer Ruby startled. “Did you hear--”

“The ringing of a distant bell,” he said. “You’ve been saying it time and again, since the beginning.” He rubbed at his forehead again. “I remember nothing of value.”

“There is value in every memory,” she protested. “Think of it: an entire civilization gone, with naught to prove it ever existed aside from a few scattered ruins and a handful of memories.”

He grunted softly.

She sighed. “Of course, you care naught for that.” She unhooked her arms and sat up, her palms sliding to press against her thighs. “I remember Amaurot. The city you dream of burning, remember? But, before the end times. I remember being a teacher, and having friends and loved ones and--”

“A little bouquet of golden flowers that never wilted, that you kept in a silvered vase on your desk at work.”

She gasped. By the time she looked to her side, Emet-Selch’s glamour had returned. His eyes were nearly closed, and he grimaced as the rain pelted his face.

“What are you doing out here, Percy? What am _I_ doing out here, for that matter?”

“I--um. I had a rough dream. Needed to clear my head.”

“What, and fill it with a pond?” Emet-Selch snapped his slick fingers. They reappeared inside the little shack, she seated on the desk chair, and he standing only a fulm away, leaving a puddle on the floor. She shivered, and he held out a towel.

“Thank you.” She wrapped it around her shoulders.

“I love you.” Emet-Selch spoke the words so plainly that she could do little more than just look up at him in response. “I always have, since we were wee little hatchlings, and you were too shy to come out from under your mother’s skirts.” He wiped the moisture from his face and slicked his hair away from his eyes. “And I always will.”

She rubbed at her arms and flicked beading moisture from her ears. “What do you want me to say to that, Emet-Selch?”

“The truth.”

“I loved you too, both as Hades and Emet-Selch.” She swallowed. “But, there is room in a heart, in a soul, a place for love of more than just one person.”

His voice turned tense. “There isn’t in mine.”

That was not true, she thought. She had been to his Amaurot. She knew that there was love for the whole star in his heart. Emet-Selch’s words came from desperation, from more than twelve thousand years of longing for a single soul to bind to his own, and the fear of losing sight of it again now that it has been found.

Emet-Selch sat, elbows on his knees and chin in his palm, and watched her eat lunch. He ate nothing himself. Summer Ruby looked at him while shoveling a spoonful of bisque into her mouth. She thought of Zenos’ earlier complaint. She worried about him. She worried about Emet-Selch, too.

She swallowed and wiped at her mouth. “You should eat something.”

“I’m not hungry.”

Summer Ruby looked down into the small wicker basket that rested at her feet. The Ascian had summoned the goods from somewhere--Limsa Lominsa, most likely--and not crafted them with his or Zenos’ energy. The only lingering aether present was from their transportation.

“Of course you are,” she said. “You’ve barely eaten a thing since you brought me here.”

“I’ll be fine.”

She frowned and rooted around in the basket. “You’ve played at being mortal for decades, so I know you ate food. Stop being silly.”

“I’m not being--”

“Listen, Emet-Selch. You can’t just keep indefinitely draining the aether of that body, and you know that. Even willpower isn’t enough to keep you going forever without eating anything.”

He grimaced. “What, did the boy complain?”

“Yes, but even if he hadn’t, you still need to eat something.”

He sighed. “The price I pay for having to take a host.”

Summer Ruby handed him one of the little wheat rolls from the basket. “You could always summon up something that you like to eat. Or even something that you don’t hate, since you seem so inclined to be childishly difficult about this.”

Emet-Selch took a bite of bread and wrinkled his nose. “Alright, _Mother_ , what do you suggest?”

“Oh, I don’t know…” She relaxed her mind while eating another spoonful of soup. A flicker of memory made her snort in amusement.

“What?”

“Mm, you could have your old studying go-to,” she said. “I don’t think we have the same tubers here, but you could conjure up a plate of fried popotoes and a bottle of wine and call it brain food.”

Emet-Selch’s cheeks pinked, and he looked away. “No need to tease.” The remainder of the roll disappeared in two bites.

“And, lucky for you, that vessel seems impervious to alcohol.”

“Pity. I would’ve liked to get giggling wine drunk with you and reminisce.”

She smiled. “We could still do that. Well, the reminiscing part.”

He considered. “I could… I could share some of my memories with you? Perhaps some nice little things. They might help strike a match to your own memory.”

Summer Ruby set her bowl down on the desk. “Do you have happy memories, Emet-Selch?”

He rubbed a gloved finger across his chin. “Centuries of them, certainly. Being with you usually made me happy.”

She thought of her time on the First, of Emet-Selch’s arrival and his bursting bravado. He had been such a strange specter among the grim reality of life on the First. “I--” She started and stopped, let her thoughts settle for a moment. “I sometimes wish we had shared a bit more time on the First. I mean, not just in my quarters. I wanted to get to know you better, Emet-Selch, though at the time I had no idea why I should have any interest in the subtleties of an Ascian.”

“Your comrades always put a damper on things,” Emet-Selch said in agreement.

“They meant well.”

“Yes, well indeed.” He shook his head. “But, we’ve already spent enough time in the relatively recent past discussing them.” He brushed a stray breadcrumb from his collar. 

She held out a piece of fried fish. He took it and ate it, looking peevish about the whole matter.

Finally he murmured: “I could show you, if you like?”

“Show me what?”

“Some of my memories. Little happy ones, of us. In Amaurot?” He looked away, pink staining his pale cheeks. “If you wanted, at least. It might help stir up your memories more.”

She considered the offer. “Will it hurt? Waking Echoes always make my head hurt.”

“Ah, because you are incomplete…” Emet-Selch trailed off. “I think I can manage that, yes.”

Summer Ruby finished eating. She followed the Ascian up to the loft and lay next to him on the bed.

“Where do the memories go, when they come to me?” She wondered as she closed her eyes. The rain continued its steady song on the roof.

“Nowhere,” Emet-Selch said. “They were already there, just hidden away. You remembering is just that. Nothing new.”

She stared at the ceiling. “Emet-Selch, do you hate Zenos?”

He shifted his weight on the bedcovers. “What? You ask that now?”

“I just wonder.”

She could feel him tense for a moment, before exhaling in a tired sigh and scratching at the back of his neck. “Zenos was, is different. It is difficult for me to explain how, but he is. I knew he was different since the day he was born.”

“Then, why treat him so poorly?” 

Emet-Selch grumped softly. “I’ve been told that I treat _everyone_ poorly, my dear.”

Her distant fluttering memories said, yes, he always had.

After a few minutes of quiet, Emet-Selch raised his hand in the air above them.

“Memories. Shall we speak of memories, then, Percy?”

“That’s what we’re here for, isn’t it?”

“Mm.” His fingers curled inwards. “The memories of a sundered soul, like yours, are a complicated thing. Though, for an Unsundered they are still of a similar function. Just a more continuous orchestration of a song, instead of snatches of recalled notes.” He sighed. “The more transient and unimportant of our memories linger within our aether. But the important things etch themselves into our very souls. Sundering a soul into fourteen pieces did not destroy the memories that really mattered to that soul when it was complete. Old bonds remain, hidden away. And the most sacred and persisting of those bonds in Amaurot was that of matrimony--the _soulbinding_ , when two souls met in confluence and became bound as one. Even if the passing of decades and centuries might lead one to dislike or even hate their conflux, the bond was unbreakable. Even the sundering of souls by Hydaelyn herself could not render it so.”

She looked at him, mind pondering his words.

“Is that why you felt so familiar to me, so shortly after meeting you on the First? Because we knew each other in the past?”

He smiled, the look heavy with memory and fondness. “We _were_ each other’s past, my dear. I thought that would be clear by now.”

“If you knew me, then why did you not say so sooner on the First? Why did you let it drag out--you could have stopped me after the second Lightwarden. But, you let me carry on, let me go down the path of suffering.”

Emet-Selch hesitated and looked away. “That answer is very complicated. The simpler version of the answer is this: I was in denial of who you were, even though I knew damned well who you were. Until the bitter end, when it was entirely too late for me to turn back, I was in denial. I needed the Light-blessed hero of the Source to help with the Rejoining of the First, and it just so happened to be you.” He sighed. “Of all those millions of souls, it just had to be you. I don’t know what I--no, what _we_ did to deserve such cruelty.” He shook his head. “That was why I wanted so badly for you to succeed. If you could have safely contained the burden of those Lightwardens, then I could have harvested the Light from you to trigger the Ardor, and you would have likely survived the ordeal completely unscathed. But, even after just the third Lightwarden I could tell something was amiss. The whole thing was very regrettable, Summer Ruby, and do truly feel sorry for causing you to suffer so. Believe me when I say it is a path I would have torn you from, had not the will of Zodiark prevented me from doing such.”

“I should hold you to the same amount of disfavor for what happened as I do the Scions,” she said.

“And, do you?”

“I don’t--” She frowned and shook her head slowly. “I don’t know, to be honest. It’s a different sort of feeling, there. Something closer to disappointment.”

Emet-Selch frowned. “I see.”

They lay in quiet for a few minutes. Her mind turned his words over, looking for a place to take hold. Then, she realized:

“Ah. You said we were each other’s past.”

He smiled again. “Yes, that’s right.”

“But, we weren’t... Not soulmates, then?”

Something flashed in his golden eyes, something of which she could not quite place the meaning. “Aye, we were soulmates.” Emet-Selch looked down at his hands, fingertips pressed neatly together in a row. “Two souls in perfect alignment, as though they were cut from the same swath of stars. Even at the end, when things went so horribly wrong, you were still my best friend.” He gently pulled his hands apart. “But, that is not what you are asking. You mean ‘were we soulbonded?’. And the answer is no. We were not. We had not gotten that far.” He shook his head. “We did not get that far.”

She considered their earliest meetings. “And, that was why you pursued my attention with such vigor when we first met, then. Making up for lost time, is that right?”

Emet-Selch hesitated before slowly shaking his head again. “No. Not exactly. Despite the circumstances, I well and truly was delighted to see you, to see the glimmer and gleam of that soul again. But, I suppose time does have its effect on men, even those such as I. Too much of my time had been spent in mortal bodies to not have my perception of pleasure altered ever so slightly.” A content sigh escaped his lips and he tipped his head back. “It had been thousands and thousands of years since I had held you so close and felt your heart beat in a desperate echo of my own. It was blissful, and I was but a weak man with an addiction.”

“I would say you are still just hopelessly addicted,” she said.

“To you, yes.” Emet-Selch lifted his hand again, and the deep red glow of his aether appeared at his gloved fingertips before slowly unfurling and curling downwards like so many little ley lines. “I believe I have the memories to show you, Percy. Something simple and sweet, and not fraught with the anxieties and stresses of our later years.”

She worried her lower lip for a moment, thinking of the memories she had been subjected to in her sleep. “Nothing bad?”

“Nothing bad, my love. I promise.”

“Okay.” She held up her hand.

“Just relax and close your eyes. Do not dwell in anticipation. Just accept my little pieces of our story.” He waited for her to nod, and then clasped her hand in his own. The thin red lines of his aether coiled around her hand, binding hers to his, and sunk into her skin to seek out her aether.

Summer Ruby closed her eyes.

She could feel as Emet-Selch offered up from himself, coaxing out memories long buried and nearly lost, little spots of brightness that lingered in some corner of his heart long after he had succumbed to his Master’s darkness. Emet-Selch held her hands in his, his aether tickling her Echo into wakefulness.

[[Hades remembered, quite plainly, the day he had met her. He could not pinpoint the exact date--it had been too long ago, and he far too young to have the importance of it impressed upon himself just yet--but he knew he was quite early in his namedays. Too young, in fact, to have been given his first mask. She had been the same, and when they were older they would realize that they had been conceived during the same batch of conception permissions. She was the elder, by about three months.

He had been wearing his little black robes, standing bored but peaceful in the loving darkness of his mother’s shadow. His mother, great and unknowable to his young mind, was chatting with a few of her friends. After a few minutes, Hades had noticed another small figure among the forest of long black robes. Another child, her face peeking out and looking around. She had bright eyes and hair pulled back into a little ponytail, and both were red like the luminous crimson circles in his workbooks. But it was the dazzling blue color of her soul that caught his eye, and he stared at it, even though his parents had expressly stated that it was rude to stare at someone’s soul without permission.

“ _Oh, look, Deme, little Hades has spotted your daughter. How cute_!” One of the women’s voices chimed down at them.

“ _Go ahead, Hades, you can say hello._ ”

“ _Be polite, sweetheart. Tell him your name_.”

The little girl had yelped and disappeared under her mother’s robe. The women had all laughed at this. But Hades had not minded. He could still see, faintly under the thickness of the fabric, the blue glow of the girl’s soul.

He would never forget that color, not in a thousand thousand lifetimes.]]  
  


She was surprised, in a brief moment of awareness from one memory to the next, that the Echo caused her no physical pain. She had not known that was possible. There was something else there though, something mixed in with his aether and sense of self.  
  


[[The second memory was also from his very younger years. He had been old enough to start primary schooling, for absorbing a basic understanding of the world around him, numbers and letters and the barest beginnings of debate. The latter was due to the fact that children, by their very nature, had a great tendency to question their elders and be argumentative. Little Hades had been shy around his classmates, around so many strangers and strange new souls that he was explicitly told not to look at by his parents. His father was convinced that he was going to cause a scene, and his mother was always a little embarrassed by her child’s tendency to stare into a person’s private depths. It hadn’t really mattered back then if he did--he knew that now-- no tiny thigh-high child had sense enough to know what he was looking at when he looked into their soul.

Hades did it anyway, when no one was looking.

He was put into a class with other hatchlings of the same year, all wearing their black robes and fresh little white masks--well, aside from the few who were claustrophobic and afraid to wear the mask when it seemed so much greater than they were at that age. Hades was fine with his mask--it made it easier to look at people without getting fussed at by his elders.

And she had been there, in his class, because of course she had. They were like two petals from a flower that had bloomed on one particular warm afternoon, though she was a far fairer petal to be sure. He was pale and stringy and worthy only of being plucked in comparison. She had spent the morning hiding behind her mask, but he noticed her all the same. How could he not?

That blue, that beautiful aetheric blue, the color of creation gleaming out from within the folds of her robes. He felt warm inside when he saw the color--it had been years since last it had graced his eyes.

Hades sat by himself during the lunch break. He was very hungry, as lunch at school was later than at home, and so focused on his sandwich that he had scarcely noticed someone was standing in front of him.

“You’re Hades, aren’t you?”

It was _her_ , and he’d been so startled he had nearly choked. He squeaked out the affirmative, and she had smiled.

“My name is Persephone,” she had said. “Can I sit with you? Everyone else here is stupid.”

Hades wasn’t really sure what ‘stupid’ meant in this case, but he had nodded, secretly quite pleased that she had wanted to sit next to him.

“Can I call you Percy?” It was the first thing that came to mind, though he worried that she might think he was ‘stupid’, too.

“Why?”

“My father says that if someone’s name has more than two syllables, you should give them a nickname to make conversations more efficient.”

She had considered this with a graveness unnatural to a very small child. “Your father sounds very wise.”

“He is. He helps make the buildings tall.”

“Oh.” She’d nodded. “Okay. You can call me Percy.”

“Okay. You can call me Hades.”

They had sat in companionable silence.

“What’s a ‘syllable’, anyways?”]]  
  


While feeling nothing herself, she _was_ aware of a twist of pain coming from Emet-Selch. She did not understand why remembering something that made him happy caused feel physical pain. Was this not what he had wanted? For her to remember?  
  


[[They were a bit older in the last memory, though still young enough to be doing primary school work. Hades and Percy sat side by side on the soft spring grass, robes fluttering now and then in the warm breeze. They sat with their workbooks open in their laps, carefully tracing the shapes of glyphs in colored ink. The glyphs would one day form the basis of creation matrices and other useful tools, but for now they were just a way to pass the time. Hades was working very diligently at the accuracy of his shapes, but when he took a break to check on his friend, he found that Percy was nowhere near as far along. She was instead doodling in the margins of the notebook.

“You aren’t supposed to do that,” Hades had chided. “We’re working on glyphs, not drawing.”

“I don’t care,” Percy had said. She’d tapped the end of her stylus in her palm, and the color of the ink shifted from blue to green. 

“Oh. Don’t you want to be able to create things when you grow up?”

“Of course I do. And I will.” She continued drawing. “I’m going to be a Mommy when I grow up. Just like my Mommy.”

“Why do you want to do that?” Hades wondered. He’d still been young then, but old enough to understand that there was some sort of basic, fundamental difference between a Mommy and a Daddy. A Daddy worked hard and shaped the world around him with his aether. A Mommy was taller and more elegant, and shaped the world around her with her wisdom. That was what he got from his mother and father, at least.

“It is my calling,” little Percy had said in a rather obstinate tone. “Don’t you have a calling, Hades?”

He had stared at her, losing himself in the blue of her soul. He wanted to say: _I think my calling is to be with you, Percy._ But he didn’t think that was the right thing to say, not yet, so he shook his head.

“I don’t know for sure. I want to be able to use magic like my father. He said I could do great things with magic.”

Percy’s tone of voice implied she was rolling her eyes at him behind her mask. “Anyone can use their magic to do great things, Hades.”

“Well, like, _really_ great things. Things people will remember thousands of years from now.” Hades had gestured grandly with his stylus.

She considered him for a long moment before nodding. “Yes, I think you could do really great things, Hades.” She went back to working on her drawing. “You can’t be a Mommy, anyways.”

“That’s okay, I guess.”

He’d delayed completion of his work to watch her doodle.

“That’s a good drawing of a bird, though,” he’d conceded in the end.]]  
  


His aether withdrew from hers when the memory ended. She puzzled briefly over his choice of recollection when a wheeze of pain caught her ear. Summer Ruby half sat up and looked down at the Ascian. He was grimacing, face taut with pain, sweat gathered on his forehead.

“Hades?” She reached for him but stopped when flinched away.

“Make him stop!” Emet-Selch wheezed, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you, I swear!”

“What--”

“ _Zenos_!” the man wailed. His body trembled through its tension. “Please!”

She reached and covered his eyes with her palms. “Just go to sleep, Hades. Just rest. Let him out so I can calm him down.”

“Percy--”

“Shh,” she whispered in as soothing a tone as she could muster. “Just sleep. It’s okay. You just need rest.”

He heaved a breath, and the quivering slowed to a stop. She could feel him release his hold, feel the shift in the aether as his glamour faded.

Summer Ruby was startled when she pulled her hands away and the man’s eyes were open. Zenos’ blue irises darted back and forth, brows drawn low in anger.

“Zenos?”

It took a moment for the twitching gaze to calm enough for Zenos to look at her. He still looked furious, and grit his teeth against some unknown struggle. Emet-Selch’s tears remained in his eyes and became his own.

“Aesta!” he finally barked out. “Don’t listen to him, he’s just trying to mess with your thoughts!”

She smiled sadly. “Don’t worry, Zenos. He didn’t do anything. And my head’s pretty well fucked with after the last week or so.”

Zenos turned his face away and spat.

“Zenos, what did you do to Emet-Selch? He looked half terrified.”

His eyes rolled to look at her before the rest of his head followed. “I bit his soul!” His teeth gnashed at the air between them. “He left himself open!”

She frowned. “You what? Why would you--”

“He is naught but an eikon’s pawn,” Zenos growled out. “He does not really care about you, Aesta! He leaves the same taint in my being as the other Ascian did. Zodiark only wishes to see you _dead_ , and I will not allow it!”

Summer Ruby stared at him, unable to completely understand the manic concern in the man’s eyes. She knew he was not entirely wrong, and yet...

“Zenos.” She sighed and sat back. There was a flutter in her thoughts, and she rubbed at her forehead. “He was just trying to help me remember, not hurt me.”

Zenos reached for her. “You know don’t that remembering won’t hurt you. That it won’t change you.” The soft plea to his voice gave her pause. She took his hand and let him pull her closer.

_You’ve never voiced concern over Zodiark before. What did you remember that has you so upset_? She wondered, but did not ask. She did not want to further his agitation.

She kissed at his tangle of blond hair. “I don’t feel different so far. Have I been acting differently?”

Zenos curled against her. “Your memories are a burden for you.”

“I--well, we’ve a heavy history. So I suppose it’s only natural.”

He was quiet for a long moment. “I don’t want you to push me away. Not when I--when I--” Zenos fell silent again and shook his head.

“Your feelings are your own,” she said. “I know you haven’t the most experience with them, but they are yours, and no one else’s.”

He made an uncertain noise and butted his forehead against her shoulder. “I love you, Aesta. Does that bother you?”

She stroked her fingers through his hair. “No. Does it bother you that I do not feel the same in return?”

Zenos shook his head and pressed himself closer to her. “No. I know you do not hate me, and that is enough.”

“‘Tis true.” She kissed the top of his head. “My friend.”

“My _friend_ ,” he echoed, and a genuinely happy noise chimed in his throat.

“My head hurts a bit.” Summer Ruby pressed her cheek to his hair and closed her eyes. “Rest with me a bit?”

“Of course, my Aesta.”

Her mind felt thick and hazy when she woke a little while later. She could not pinpoint why, could not remember the dream that wakefulness had freed her from. Her head felt heavy, as though full of the rain. She had a sense of remembrance, even as the contents of her dream faded entirely.

It was a strange thing, remembering. Summer Ruby dwelt upon this while lying awake in the bed. Zenos lay warm next to her in bed, still asleep and at peace with the world. She brushed her fingers lightly along his cheek, wondering at the way the thoughts sluggishly tumbled in her head. She had heard in stories of amnesiacs regaining their memories all at once, and how jarring and world-shaking the whole process could be. It conflicted with the person’s sense of self to the point of nearly destroying that which was being restored.

And yet, she did not feel this way. Summer Ruby had the feeling that her memories were there, all there, from the years since the Calamity and reaching back to some far distant point beyond her current lifetime. All there, and yet not all present at once. They were as though she had found a journal from her younger years, lost and forgotten in a storage chest, and her mind was randomly flipping to a page in the journal and showing her what she had forgotten. _See? This happened once, long ago. Don’t you remember?_ As the pages turned, she did remember. It was not jarring at all--it was simply there as it had always been.

And yet, there was still something wrong. Her mind rattled in its thoughts, as though the journal had been dropped and a bookmark misplaced. 

The page fell open to a story she had already seen. Her dream returned.

[[They had shown their faces to each other under a tree she had made. She looked into his eyes, and her heart fluttered.]]

And then it was as though another page had been turned, and the next words written were too much for her heart to handle.

[[It had rained the morning they were wed.]] 

Everything blurred as tears filled her eyes. She struggled to sit up. 

[[She had skipped out on a morning lecture class to do it. There had been hardly anyone at the Hall of Union that morning. No one there to see them, no one to care who they were.]] 

Her hand gripped his shoulder, and the rust red of his aether reached for hers. 

[[They stood before the magistrate and read the ancient words. They shared their aether--hers to his, his to hers--binding their souls together. A bond, inescapable even by death. It burned inside her like their names were being etched together in the stars. _Persephone--_ ]] 

“Rigel.” 

She gasped, nearly choking on the name. Looking down, she could barely see Zenos through her tears. 

[[Her conflux.]] 

“Rigel.” 

[[Her _husband_.]] 

“Rigel!” She grabbed his shoulder and shook him. “Rigel, please _\--”_ _  
_

[[On the ground, tears in his eyes. Blood coursing from his throat.]] 

“-- _please_ \--” 

[[Lost to her forever.]] 

“Please wake up!!” 

Sobbing, she gave him another desperate shake. Zenos groaned, but as his eyes opened his appearance shifted back to that of Emet-Selch. The Ascian stared up at her, and his expression darkened like a dying star. 

“Who is _Rigel_?” he snapped at her, grabbing her. “Who is he?!”


	35. Remember Us

_“There is naught beyond our creation, when we are as one”_

\--Amaurotine words of Confluence

“Who is Rigel ?” he snapped, grabbing at her. “Who is he?!”

He sat up and shoved her down into the bedcovers. It took all the restraint he had not to shake her. Summer Ruby--Percy-- _who the hells was he holding?_ \--was sobbing, eyes nearly squeezed shut, her face turned away. She would not look at him, and that only served to spike at the confused anger in his brain.

“Persephone!” Emet-Selch barked. She flinched away from him, intaking her air in a shaky gasp. “Don’t try to ignore me, woman! Tell me the truth!”

She shuddered underneath him and wept. -- _why did she weep when she was the one who had caused so much pain_ \--

“I am not going to let you go, not ever,” he growled down at her. “So you might as well be honest with me!”

Summer Ruby grit her teeth and tried to press her face into the covers. “You’re hurting me!”

“I’m angry!”

Emet-Selch looked down at where his hands gripped her shoulders. Her dark skin was darkening under his fingertips, and the point of his right thumb had dug in enough to draw a thin line of blood. He grimaced but did not let her go. He could not let her go, not now. - _-suffer with me--_

Trying not to scream made his throat ache. “Then just tell me!”

She squirmed underneath him, rubbing her cheek against the pillowcase. She was still trembling, and tears yet streaked down her cheeks.

He tried to steady his voice as much as he could, though it took nearly every onze of strength that he had. “Percy, please.”

Her eyes were bloodshot when she opened them. Emet-Selch ignored the blue one--it bored him, it always bored him, it wasn’t _her_ , it was that boring broken shell she inhabited. -- _my beautiful wretched--_

“Shh, it’s alright, sweetheart,” he whispered, even though it made his throat burn. He loosened his grip enough to sweep his thumbs over her skin. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I promise.”

Emet-Selch did his best to focus on her, and not the feral shadow he could feel lurking in the corners of his thoughts. -- _I am cornered between you and that beast, Percy. Can’t you help me_ \--

It took several minutes, but finally she calmed and let out a shaky sigh. He leaned in close, but she still did not look at him. He watched as her eyes unfocused with the processing of some memory.

“Rigel was a student of mine, once, not terribly long before I stopped teaching and joined the Convocation.” A smile bloomed on her beautiful face, and he despaired at not being its cause. “But he became my soul’s indulgent joy.”

“Your--your _what_?” Jealousy coiled its dark fingers around the despair. “He was what, Persephone?”

“My beloved,” she said, her smile unfaltering. -- _why are you not smiling for me--_ “My lover. The one my soul searched for, even in so many pieces. He was cut down trying to protect me from Igeyorhm. Don’t you remember, Hades?”

\-- _Do I remember? What kind of question is that--_ He shook his head. No, he remembered but did not want to--did not want to again delve into that horrible moment when she had come to pieces in his arms, when the very firmament above and loam below had shattered with Zodiark’s defeat.

“Remember us,” she said, tone gentle as she dredged up his final moments on the First. “Remember that _we_ once lived.”

There had been another person on the ground, next to Percy when he had found Igeyorhm gutting his beloved. A younger fellow with his throat ripped open. Emet-Selch had always assumed that the man had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. But if he hadn’t been, if she had been with him--

A weakened, flickering rust red soul, one that barely clung to the waking world even as it went to pieces. That soul had tormented him, haunted him for thousands of years. Emet-Selch always knew when their work was successful, because _that soul_ would appear just before a Calamity. It was ever increasingly dark and resentful, dissatisfied with their work. The work of the Ascians would never be enough to return what had been stolen from that one broken soul, and Emet-Selch had been certain he would never be free of the bitter shadow. He thought he might have been going mad, in Solus’ progressing years, when that damned soul had begun wailing in a bassinet in the second floor apartments in the palace--

The shadow in his mind gnashed its teeth, and he tumbled back to the present, to the woman still shaking beneath his weight.

_\--You lied to me Percy--_

He snapped at her: “Why did I not know?”

“Because, I hid him from you. Hid that part of me from you.” She pressed a warm palm to his cheek. “Because I knew you would not be able to handle that dissonance in your universe. And you still can’t.”

\-- _Don’t touch me with such kindness, please, I can’t_ \-- Emet-Selch covered her hand with his own, feeling a shameful sting of tears in his eyes. “Why was my love not enough for you? How could you be my beloved, but I not yours in return?” -- _How it was meant to be_ \--

“Oh, Hades, I knew you felt for me. And I felt for you. But you--” She frowned. “You never really acted on it. And I did not want to mire our dear friendship by pressing the issue. But I _waited_ , Hades. I waited for decades and decades and more than a century, for you to be ready. You held my hand through so much, and you just never asked the right question.” She swallowed, eyes darting to look at him for a moment before looking away once more. -- _Why was I such a coward_ \-- “But, you never asked. And then, after awhile, there came a time where you--you lost your chance to ask.”

“What do you mean?”

“My heart got tired of waiting, Hades.” She held out her left hand and unfurled her fingers. After a moment her aether bubbled to the surface of her palm, the old beautiful brilliant blue. And every few seconds, mixed in with the roiling azure came a brief flicker of red. Dull and dismal, like a rusted-out gear. Something turned in Emet-Selch’s stomach, and he let out a noise of dismay. -- _no no no--_

“That is not my aether,” he whispered. “That is not _my_ red.”

“No, Hades, it isn’t. I bonded with someone else.”

His stomach pitched again, and with a bodily jerk he clasped a hand over his mouth. He fought back the urge to retch. “That’s impossible.” -- _some kind of mistake, the world coming back together the wrong way_ \--

“It isn’t impossible. I hid it from you, and you were too busy with the Convocation to notice.” She shook her head. “It wasn’t really that difficult. When I joined the Convocation after you I just...left that detail out. And no one asked. They just assumed...”

“That we were together,” Emet-Selch said. “’Emet-Selch and Matrisiram, aren’t they a pair. We’re so lucky to have them working together.’” His shoulders jerked and he squeezed his eyes shut. He asked the hateful question: “Who was _he_?” -- _I don’t want to know but I need to know who to blame_ \--

“No one you knew,” she said. “You never noticed him, all the times you passed him on the street going to my apartment. And you never noticed if his aether lingered with me, because you both had red coloring. You were too comfortable to think anything was amiss.” A regretful sigh flowed from her lips. “Hythlo didn’t know, either. I hid my happiness from everyone. But, it was worth it.”

“Worth it?” Anger and despair again fought for control of his thoughts. “ _Worth it?_ ”

She did not flinch this time. Emet-Selch thought he could hear the boy’s scornful laugh echoing somewhere behind him.

“Why do this to me, Percy? Why tell me this now?” -- _I’m so tired of being without you, Percy_ \--

“You brought it upon yourself,” she said, not unkindly. Her thumb wiped at the tear that had escaped down his cheek. “You had to have me back, to have me remember. And part of the recollection is remembering _everything_. Not just the parts connected to you.”

He struggled to feel something other than anger, other than despair. He forced himself to focus on the woman in front of him, on her, on _Persephone_. How long had he waited to speak to her again? And now he had her again and could only struggle to suppress the indignant rage that sprung to life in his breast at the knowledge that she had hidden something from him one eternal lifetime ago. No, he had waited too long for this to fall back into anger, into the betrayal of Matrisiram at the end of days. He loved her, and she was finally awake again, how could he waste this?

And yet--

“No.” He shook his head in denial. “No, that can’t be right. That can’t be the same soul.”

“What?” Summer Ruby looked up at the Ascian. “That soul _\--Rigel’s_ soul--it is pressed against your own at this very moment. Surely you should be able to tell the truth better than any other living person on this star!”

His eyes flashed with burning sulfur. “Silence! Be _silent!_ ”

She felt his aether grab at hers and dig in deep as though searching for something. He loomed over her again, too close, too warm.

“My dear, sweet, Percy. I can--I will forgive you. I will forgive you _lying_ to me and _hiding_ this wretchedness from me.” His eyes continued to blaze, and as she heard a queer rattling in his chest she could not help but remember the massive shade of the man she had faced on the First. “I can forgive, but only if you will _just be mine_.”

His eyes were a little too wide, his skin bleached a little too pale, and she felt ill in his presence.

“I--I can’t,” she said. “I can’t and I won’t and you know why. I will not renounce this life. I will not give up my husband, my family, my loves--not just for you. Not now.”

A frown cracked its way onto Emet-Selch’s youthful face. He shook his head. “After all that we have been through, you would deny me? You would continue to choose this fractured world and its broken beings over me? You are supposed to be on my side!”

Summer Ruby stared at him, uncertain of what to say. An old, wistful part of her soul wanted to agree with him, still wanted to be with him. But she couldn’t. To do so would mean the defeat and death of everything she held dear.

‘ _Do you remember what you said at the tribunal?’_ A familiar, growling voice whispered in her ear. ‘ _I am on your side.’_

She startled and flinched away from Emet-Selch, but he was still motionless and staring at her with nearly hateful focus. A quick glance showed that no one was next to her. She could feel her aether prickle in her palms.

‘ _No matter what, I am on your side, Aesta. And so is Ser Aymeric. Because we love you. We want nothing in return. Just you.’_ She could hear an indignant snarl. ‘ _Put the old man in his place. Yours is the only side that matters.'_

Summer Ruby closed her eyes and tried to focus, but could not pinpoint where the voice was coming from. Almost all the aether in the room was focused on Emet-Selch.

 _Thank you, Zenos_ , she thought.

She swallowed and opened her eyes, feeling comforted and assured for the first time all day. Emet-Selch was still staring at her, the frown unchanged on his lips.

She found her voice and said: “I--I know you have been alone for a long time, Emet-Selch. But you have to stop thinking only of yourself.”

The Ascian blinked, and the corners of his mouth pinched further. “What?”

“This is all about _you_ , Emet-Selch. Your suffering, your loneliness, your desire to have your Percy back in your arms again, to right your past failures and make her your lover. But you can’t do that. You had your chance and you didn’t take it, and you can’t just come here now and try to pick up where we left off, when I have lived and died time and again.” She pressed her fingers over her heart. “The Percy you hold in your heart and your memory no longer exists. She has died and lived over and again and had to grow in order to have any chance of becoming restored.”

He stared at her with widened eyes, and then grit his teeth. “This life here does not matter! When the world is whole again, none of this will matter!”

“It matters now,” she said. “It matters to me, and to the people living now.”

“I don’t care!” Emet-Selch shouted.

They stared at each other, the Ascian’s chest heaving.

“Emet--”

He cut her off, face contorting with his wrath. “If you are going to cling to this life, then I will have to destroy it! I will find every last fractured soul you care about and destroy them all! Then you will have no choice but to return to me.” He huffed out an angry laugh. “I have waited too long for you, Persephone. I will not let you turn your back on me. Never again.”

Summer Ruby could not help but tremble a bit in fear of him, of the burning flush of aether that was crackling along his skin. She pushed past the dread. “Listen to yourself, Emet-Selch. Listen to the madness you are spouting. Look at the monster that gnashes his teeth before me.”

Emet-Selch _growled_.

She curled her fingers into her palms. “You were my best friend, _Hades_! But if you ever think about following through with that threat it will be the last thing you do.” She scrambled away from him and pushed to her feet. Her ears twitched. “Do not think that my affections for you will stop me from destroying you a second time. I will rip you from that body myself and send you to the Lifestream in tatters. And I will do it with tears in my eyes because I _remember_ you, Hades.”

His aether crashed upon her in a desperate wave, coiling around her body and nearly pulling her off her feet.

“Persephone _please_!” Emet-Selch howled. “I _need_ you! I can stand this no longer!” His aether stung at her skin, and her own recoiled from his touch. “Percy, why can you not be content to be mine, as you were meant to be?”

“You can’t have me like that, Hades,” she said in a firm tone. “You just can’t.”

“ _Why_?”

She listened to the flutter of memories in the back of her mind. “A long time ago, in a world long gone, yes, I did love you. And I spent more than a century wishing that you would just take the chance and offer yourself up to me. But you never did. And someone else came along who wasn’t afraid to take that chance, someone who was willing to make the time for me.” She shook her head. “But that didn’t mean I stopped loving you. You were still my best friend. Even though I kept that part of my life secret from you, I still adored you.”

Emet-Selch’s face and posture were still strained in anger, but there were tears in his eyes now. “Percy.”

Summer Ruby shifted a step closer and took his face in her hands. His skin was burning. She lowered her voice. “Hades, I will not forsake this life or this broken world. When the Calamities come, I will stand and protect what I can. But, that does not mean I _want_ to destroy you again.” She shook her head. “Please, do not force my hand.”

“Then what am I supposed to do?” Emet-Selch ground out through gritted teeth. “Tell me, oh most prudent Matrisiram, _what am I supposed to do_?”

She felt ill, as though she might suffocate under the press of his despair and his aether alike.

“Emet-Selch… Hades… I do not need another lover. I am full up on them, and neither can be replaced. What I really need right now is a friend. My best friend. That is what I need of you, my poor Hades. Were you meant to have been aught else, you would have been.”

He stared at her, and she could feel his body and soul strained taught beneath her grasp. Then his face crumpled, and he pulled away. Emet-Selch sank to his knees, face falling into his gloved hands, and wept.

For a long moment she watched him, silent. Then pity bore itself into her breast, as it was often wont to do. Summer Ruby knelt next to the weeping man on the floor and pulled him into her arms. Emet-Selch’s tears burned at her skin, but she did not push him away. Though it felt as though his aether, his very touch, would leave her branded by his rage and sorrow, she held him close.

She whispered: “Please, Hades, give me your word. No more fury. No more tantrums. They will avail you for naught.”

He said nothing, and just remained pressed to her, white and umber hair sticking to his damp cheeks.

“Please. Let us start a new chapter in our story.” She stroked her fingers through his hair. Summer Ruby gentled her tone, as though speaking to her little son. “Wouldn’t that be lovely, Hades? It’s what you’ve wished for, isn’t it? If you could just find it in yourself to be willing to share, it would make me so very happy.”

Emet-Selch shuddered against her and shook his head. “I do not desire to share you, Percy.”

“I know. But you must. You are not the sole keeper of my heart.”

He mulled over her words. “How can you possibly think to go back to Ishgard now? Back to that husband of yours, when you know all this?”

Summer Ruby shook her head. “Because he is the love I found in this lifetime. I do not love him less for the love I held in the past.”

“And Zenos?”

“My soul yearns for his, as it has for millennia.”

“You can’t be greedy and claim them both, Percy--”

She chuckled and shook her head. “It isn’t greed if those that I want wish for me in return.”

“No, you can’t just--”

“Oh, I can’t, but it’s alright for you to be greedy? For you to want to claim me as yours and yours alone?” She touched his cheek. “You had your chance, when the world was whole. When I was whole. But you did not take it, Hades. And it would not be fair to those who have taken that chance on me to be turned away in your favor.”

“But I _need_ you. I’ve always needed you.”

She smiled. “I know.” She leaned in close, coiling her arms around his shoulders. “You are still my dearest friend, Hades. I think I felt that, knew that to some extent, even when we met on the First. My soul knew.”

He made a pitiful noise in his throat. “My kindness was selfish. I did not want you to suffer because I loved that which I saw in your soul. It had nothing to do with who you were in your current incarnation.”

“I know. Much of what love does, it does for both selfish and altruistic reasons.”

“Ah--” He shuddered again before quieting. “I can feel the boy seething in my shadows. He still wants me gone.”

“And rightfully so.”

Emet-Selch mumbled in a dismal tone: “What could your conflux have possibly thought of me? Of you, for humoring me?”

“I wasn’t humoring you, Hades. I wanted you to be happy, because you were my cherished companion. And Rigel, he knew that you and I were close, had been for our whole lives. He knew... he knew he would always have to share me with you, to a degree.” She thought of Zenos, of how easily he had stepped to her side while Aymeric held fast at her other. Was it just part of his soul’s nature?

“Having some of you is better than having none of you at all,” Emet-Selch said, his voice weak and worn. “I can understand that, in a fashion. I have dwelt in that pain for much of the last twelve thousand years. Every minute of every waking hour, I missed you more and more.”

“Well, I am here now. Not whole, but here.” She kissed his forehead, just above the smooth spot of his third eye. “And I will still make time for you, Hades.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.” 

Emet-Selch made a soft, happy noise that was quickly followed by a weary sigh. “I am tired, Percy.”

“Well, I suspect that you wasted a great deal of energy working yourself into a froth like that.”

“Are you angry with me?”

“I still have room to be, if you necessitate it.” She placed another soft kiss on his skin. “Do not rage for not having all of me. Rejoice for having any of me.”

He rested his head against her shoulder. “You always were the logically efficient one.”

Summer Ruby said nothing, and simply held the man in her arms as he drifted off to sleep. She sagged tiredly against him, and had nearly dozed off when she became aware of strong arms hooking around her and hefting her up onto the bed.

Zenos cradled her gently against his side. “You fought well, my love.”

“Fought?” She sighed and shook her head. “I did not wish to fight Emet-Selch. No one wants to fight their friend like that.”

“All the same. You were impressive.”

She remained quiet, not knowing how to tell him that she did not feel impressive, and that she was tired of fighting.

“I heard you,” she said instead, and pointed a finger at the side of her head. “I _heard_ you.”

“Yes. I called to you.”

“How did you do that?”

Zenos shrugged. “Our souls are connected.”

She nodded in acceptance of his answer. “Thank you. It was the encouragement I needed.”

“Good. It was all I could offer.”

“Did you mean what you said?”

Summer Ruby felt his chin come to rest against her shoulder. “Every word.”

She said: “Thank you.”

They lay together for some time, neither falling asleep. Though she was exhausted, Summer Ruby could not keep her eyes closed. It was impossible to, when she was completely aware of Zenos’ eyes focused on her. Despite her fatigue, a diverting thought pricked at her mind.

“Zenos, do I bore you?” She touched his chin lightly. 

He looked down at her, brows raised slightly. After a moment he said: “I would be loath to admit that some of what you do is what I might categorize as boring.”

“So, yes.”

He hesitated, and shook his head. “No, not exactly. It is difficult for me to explain. I suppose because I know what you are capable of, the dull matters you choose to fill your downtime with are somehow more intriguing.”

“I’m sure your affections for me help with that.”

“Perhaps.” He shrugged. “I know you are capable of fantastic violence. And yet you take such interest in the tedium of the day to day matters.”

“So, I do bore you.”

“Oh, yes.” Zenos smiled. “But I find myself drawn to that boredom, instead of repulsed by it. ‘Tis strange, as I have spent most of my life trying to escape the boredom that echoes in my mind. And yet I can sit here and watch you perform some menial task--tend to a tear in your coat or the like, and it is... fascinating. To watch those capable fingers work the needle and thread, that focus and attention to detail... It is clear that the things that make you a masterful combatant also aid you in other parts of your life.”

She patted his hip. “It’s good to be a well rounded person, Zenos. Don’t you have any hobbies? You know, non-combat interests? Other than sex, I mean.”

His nose scrunched slightly in thought. She watched him, a touch amused, because she was fairly certain that he would draw a blank. It was sad in its own way, yes, that the man could spend so much of his life unable to find something to enjoy other than violence. Zenos looked away, fingers twisting into the lock of hair that framed the left side of his face.

“Floriculture,” he said. He scoffed at Summer Ruby’s murmur of surprise. “Not exactly as a hobby, but an interest. Garlemald is a nearly frozen land, not lending itself to extravagant botanical growth. But, the grounds of the Imperial palace are home to a very large and lavish glasshouse. I believe my great-grandsire had it built for his wife, as she was fond of working on little alchemical projects. Grew things for the crafting of perfumes. Provided ingredients for the kitchens. Made poisons. It’s full of all sorts of plants imported from around the Empire, and some things smuggled out of the savage lands.”

She thought of a little sun-haired prince, sitting amongst the greenery as he slowly descended into the void of his own soul. “So, you liked looking at the flowers?”

“In a fashion,” Zenos said. “Perhaps not so much for their beauty, but their history and stories and meaning interested me. The predecessors of the Garleans ascribed a great deal of meaning and symbology to plants and flowers, and parts of that remained in the culture even after we were forced to move into a territory that did not permit their growth.” He scratched his chin. “The glasshouse was always quiet. Boring, yes, but a peaceful sort of boring. One that calmed my mind and took the edge off things when I was a child.”

“So, you must have enjoyed staying in Gridania, then. It’s overflowing with flowers and plants.”

Zenos spoke in a deadpan: “The people were lacking but the botany had its charms.” He smiled as Summer Ruby laughed and kissed his cheek. “Though, I must admit that I wish I could go back to that glasshouse. There was a flower there I’d like to find for you.”

She teased: “Oh? A flower--must be a poisonous one, if you’re keen on it.”

“I don’t think it is. There is a little type of flower that can only be found in that glasshouse. I believe the Ascian must have conjured it up for my great-grandmother. A little type of trillium, with silver leaves and golden petals.” He held out his hands, as though grasping something. “They would look lovely crowning your head, Aesta.”

She blushed, and wondered at the gentle sentimentality of his words. “I’m not sure I really need a crown, Zenos.”

“I would still grant you one.” He stared at her, and when he spoke his voice had descended into a strange, regretful whisper. “Don’t you remember?” Zenos touched her cheek.

There was the faintest of pressures in her mind, and then the world shifted around them.

[[She was beautiful, lying on their bed wearing naught more than a thin tunic of pale blue silk. No, he thought as he set his work bag down, the shirt wasn’t hers, it was one of his. The sleeves were far too long for her limbs, and he did not know her to own anything with buttons down the front. Still, she was beautiful, and he was helpless against the smile that sprang to his lips at the sight of her. She was holding a concept crystal aloft over her head, red eyes flicking back and forth through the contents.

He called gently, as to not startle her, even though he knew she was fully aware of his presence. “Come now, love, I thought we agreed on no work in the bedroom.”

Her lips quirked mirthfully as she tipped the crystal into the afternoon sunlight. “We did, and so you should know I’m not doing something so profane.”

He waved his robes and mask away and padded over to the side of the bed. She offered the crystal, and he took it, a delighted thrill tracing up his arm as their fingers brushed together.

The aether etched into the crystal’s lattices was his own, and he barely had to look into it to know what was inscribed inside. “Ah. This old thing. I didn’t know you still held onto this.”

She smiled up at him, empty fingers tracing over his knuckles and down the back of his hand. “Of course I did. You never applied to get it registered, so this is the only copy I have.”

“I made it just for you,” he said as he set the crystal on the bedside table. “Besides, you don’t need extra copies of the thing--you have me.”

She laughed, hands reaching and grabbing and hooking her fingers greedily into the soft cloth at his shoulders. She tugged him down for a kiss. There was a sweetness to her lips and tongue--starflower tea and honeysuckle nectar, she had gotten into his stash again--and he was more than ready to forgo their conversation in search of what the rest of her tasted of today. But she pulled away, cheeks flushed, ruby eyes gleaming, fingers holding at his jawline to keep them connected. His soul fled to her fingertips, eager, wanting of her.

“Show me, then.”

Ever the flatterer, he thought. Masterfully dexterous in the creative arts as she was, and she still always wanted him to conjure up something for her. He supposed that was just how she was--some leftover from her time as a teacher, always ready and willing to encourage others to grow in their own talents.

He smiled. “Just for you.”

It was easy now, after decades of practice, the simple twisting of his aether into the air at his fingertips, calling the delicate silvery threads into existence where naught but red aether had been before. Aurum blossoms, delicate in their beauty, sprang forth along the length of the argent vine. He looked beyond his art to her, to the gently reverent smile upon her face, and was nearly distracted from his task. He blinked back into focus, twisting the vine and its blooms into a simple loop. She sat up at his beckoning and squirmed as he placed the gleaming diadem upon her head.

He whispered: “Beautiful,” and she laughed, throwing her arms around him and drawing him close. He tasted starflowers and honeysuckle again, felt the pleasant touch of her brilliant blue aether against his, and--]]

The Echo ended abruptly, and Summer Ruby gasped at the sudden return to herself. She stared at Zenos, who was gazing at her with a placid steadiness.

“What was--how did you--” She shook her head and waved a finger between their faces.

“I watched the old man show you things. ‘Tis a process as simple as speaking with one’s aether.”

She was baffled by his tranquility, his modesty. “But, that was a... an…”

“Old memory of mine,” Zenos said. “One of many ancient lost things of a man dead for millennia. Lost and yet not forgotten.” He leaned in slightly. “They started coming back to me, like so many frames of an old recording, not long after I first used my Resonant.”

“Your Echo.”

“It tells me they are memories of my own, though I don’t recall their formation. And since so many of them were of frivolous, meaningless day to day matters, I cast them aside as being the unimportant work of too idle a mind.” He reached and touched her hair. “Until the first time one of my dreams showed me _her_ , the one who was so important to that man. I felt the emotion fit to burst from that man’s chest, nearly fit to burst from his being, just at the sight of her aether. I _felt_ it all as surely as it were something drawn from my own conscious memory. That happened, and I realized... I had seen that aether before.” Zenos gave her hair a light tug. “Your aether, that brilliant blue, in another person. And, I did not know what to make of it. But, I do now.”

“When did this happen? I mean, when did you first feel what Rigel felt?”

Zenos released his grip on her hair and moved his hand as though to smooth it out. “While I slept the night that you healed my arm.”

The night that their aether had entwined, and left her lost to the whims and wants of her body, she thought. “That long, and you did not tell me?”

“I was still figuring things out. I did not wish to over complicate matters more than they already were.”

“When I asked you more recently, you said that you didn’t remember anything from your dreams.”

“I said I remembered nothing of importance,” he said.

“You lied to me, Zenos,” Summer Ruby said in a whisper. “You lied to me, from the moment of your awakening.” 

Zenos shook his head. “I did. But we were still enemies at the time. And I--I had yet to come to any real understanding of what the details of the dreams meant. The feelings behind it all--I would be lying were I to say that I truly understand them all even now. I just understand why I remained so hopelessly drawn to you, even after my hunt had ended. Why my aether seeks yours out. Why I _feel_ for you.”

“It is alright,” she said. “I forgive you.”

His body relaxed against hers. “Thank you.”

She looked into his eyes and felt a stir of peace at the blue rings that stared back at her. A blush heated her cheeks, and she reached to touch his lips.

“It really is you.”

“I am as I always was,” Zenos murmured. “Whether Zenos or Rigel or some half dozen others. I am as ever before. And so are you.”

Something pleasant knifed its way into her breast--a twist of relief, of happiness, of completion. She looked at him shyly and traced her fingers along his jaw.

“Hey.”

His face pressed into her touch. He smiled at her. “Hello.”

For a long time they lay together in quiet, before she realized just how quiet the world had become.

“The rain stopped,” she murmured.

“Your soul is no longer weeping,” Zenos said.

“And what of Emet-Selch?”

He nuzzled against her jaw. “The old man rests.”

“Do you think he will let you go, now?”

After a moment of consideration, Zenos said: “He does not intend to.”

She sighed. “We’ll figure something out.”

He rumbled in agreement.

She thought of what might be done in the near future. “Zenos, what do you want of me? I know what Aymeric wants of me. I know what Emet-Selch wants of me… But, what about you?”

His tone was pensive. “I... feel as though I must make up for lost time, though I can scarcely say where that time was lost. I just want to be with you, when I can.”

Much the same as the others, she thought. “You don’t want me to do anything for you?”

Zenos made a noncommittal noise. “I would still like to spar with you, when things have returned to some normalcy.”

She smiled at him. “Of course you do.”

His arms folded around her, and his brow rested against the curve of her throat. For a few minutes they were quiet, and she watched the golden gleam of the afternoon sun trace its way over them through the old windows. He was the one who spoke next.

“Aesta?”

“Yes, Zenos?”

There was something soft and cautious to his tone, something she did not recognize immediately from the man. “Do you think you might love me again, one day?”

She blinked and looked at him. His eyes were closed. “I… I suppose it might be possible again, yes. Someday.”

Zenos smiled. “Good.”


	36. Starved By Affection

In the morning Summer Ruby woke alone in the bed. At first she was surprised, and then concerned. She wondered where her companion--whoever he was at the moment--had gone off to so early in the morning. Outside the building she heard the gentle splash of the nearby waterfall. It was accompanied by a somewhat louder splash, and a soft hum. Emet-Selch, then, she could tell by the high, thin notes. When Zenos hummed, it was always low and thoughtful, menacing in the past, but pleasant now. Ever since she had met him on the First, Emet-Selch’s humming had sounded sinister. It was less so these days, but still a little too sharp to be a complete comfort.

She dressed herself and made her way down from the loft. The air was damp, still humid with a week’s worth of rainfall. Was that her fault? She couldn’t be sure--she had no control over the weather, after all, so that had to have been some kind of coincidence. Still, Zenos’ words the night before still occasionally echoed in her thoughts.

Summer Ruby went outside. 

Emet-Selch was seated at the edge of one of the pools, fully dressed, skirts soaking in the warm waters. He was squinting in the morning sunlight.

“Emet-Selch, what are you doing out here? The sun’s barely up.”

“I was enjoying the sunrise,” he said. “And soaking my feet. They’re sore. I keep stubbing the toes on things.”

She looked down at him and thought. “You do have dainty little feet.”

“I do! Lovely little feet! I don’t know where the boy got these monstrous paws from.” He lifted a pale foot from the water, and she startled at the dark bruise and discolored nail on his big toe.

“By the Fury, how can you--” Summer Ruby sat next to the pool and held out her hands. “Here. Let me heal you.”

A pout turned out the Ascian’s lower lip. “You don’t have to mock me.”

“Who’s mocking? I don’t want either of you to go around like that.” She watched as he awkwardly shuffled around to face her. “Oh, I see. It’s the glamour, isn’t it? I see you as you but underneath you’re still feeling the boundaries of Zenos’ body, because you didn’t change it to your liking.”

Emet-Selch huffed. “Yes, yes.”

“You need to find a vessel you can mold, then.”

He scowled and looked away. “It’s too early for teasing.” He rested his arms on his knees.

“I want you to drop your glamour,” she said. “So I can make sure you haven’t damaged anything else.”

“I’m not a child!”

“Just humor me.”

Another soft huff, but after a low muttering the glamour faded. It was incomplete, though, Summer Ruby noticed. When she glanced up at the familiarly handsome face, she saw that the man’s eyes were still golden and tired. He was wearing a pair of dark linen trousers, rather than the lack of attire she had been expecting.

“I have  _ some _ decency,” Emet-Selch said when her look lingered on the pants. She smiled at him.

“I’m sure Zenos appreciates it.”

Summer Ruby spent a few minutes applying healing spells to the man’s feet. He had somehow managed to stub both of his big toes, as well as earning bruises on the joints of most of the rest of the digits.

“Are you fussing for his sake or mine?” Emet-Selch asked once she had soothed the last of his injuries.

“For you both, I suppose.”

He gave an unconvinced grunt.

“Just, be more careful, okay?”

“I am being careful. I’d probably be lame by now if I wasn’t being careful.”

She sighed and shook her head. Emet-Selch waved his right hand, and his glamour reappeared. She looked away. 

“Percy? Is something wrong?”

She spoke the first words that came to her mind. “I wish to go home. I can’t stay here indefinitely, Emet-Selch.” She didn’t mention the fact that her stomach was gnawing on itself because the Ascian seemed to lack the caring or foresight to regularly provide her with food.

“I see.” He sighed. “Back to the mortal doldrums then, is it?”

“It’s my life.”

“All the same.” He kicked a bare heel at the ground. “Fine, go then.”

“You should come with me,” Summer Ruby said. Emet-Selch scoffed and immediately shook his head.

“No, no. I’m not going with you. I will stay here.”

“And, what about Zenos?”

Emet-Selch grimaced. “Zenos stays with me.”

“What if he doesn’t want to?”

“Well then,” he said airily. “He’ll just have to find his own body, won’t he?”

She frowned at him. “You really won’t come to Ishgard with me?”

“It’s much warmer here, so I think I will pass.”

“Hades…” Summer Ruby got to her feet. “Would you at least take care of yourself? Of your vessel? You know, eat and drink and all that?”

“Perhaps. I don’t really need to. At the least, not as much as you seem to believe I do.” He flicked his fingers in the air. “You don’t need to mother me.”

“Maybe. I’ll have to come check on you in a few days.”

Emet-Selch got to his feet and made a show of dusting off his skirts. “Of course you will. You wouldn’t abandon me out here, would you?”

“Not you. Not either of you.”

“Good.” He touched her shoulders, but he did not move closer. His hands were cold through his gloves, and she could feel a faint prickle of aether through the fabric. She did her best not to focus on whose aether it was she was feeling. “Take care, my dear. Say hello to the family for me, hm?”

“Right.” Summer Ruby looked back to the shack, but remembered that she had nothing to take back with her to Ishgard. Just herself.

She knew that would be enough.

Summer Ruby was relieved to suck in lungfuls of biting cold air when she materialized at the aetheryte platform. Opening her eyes revealed the familiar gray sky and cold stone of Ishgard. Ignoring the passingly curious and scandalized looks from the people in the area, she bolted from the platform and did not stop running until she passed the Athenaeum Astrologicum. She slowed, catching her breath as she neared the dark doors, and stopped on the steps when she realized she did not have her key. Emet-Selch had snatched her away in naught but her houseclothes, after all.

She tried the handle anyway, and smiled when the door opened.

“Aymeric!” Summer Ruby called anxiously, barely stopping to close the door behind her before hurrying down the hall. He appeared in their bedroom doorway, and she threw herself upon him.

Her husband shuddered against her before his arms coiled around her middle and his hands grasped at her with almost painful intensity.

“Summer Ruby!” He sobbed out her name, and collapsed against her.

“He’s scarcely eaten while you were gone,” the steward reported not long later, as the Warrior of Light sat on the bed with Aymeric’s head resting in her lap. “We were quite worried, for both our Lord and yourself, my Lady.”

“As was I,” she murmured. She stroked her nails through Aymeric’s messy curls. “Have some broth and tea brought for him. Nothing too heavy.”

“Of course, my Lady.” The steward hesitated. “You look a bit pale yourself, if I might say. Shall we bring you something as well?”

“Oh.” She touched her cheek. “Just some bread for now will be fine. Hopefully in the afternoon we will have a proper meal.”

“As you wish.”

She looked down at her husband’s weary face as he slept. He looked peaceful, but paler than she was used to, and she internally lamented having caused him so much suffering over the last few months. What sort of wife was she, when she couldn’t even properly look after the man she loved?

Summer Ruby looked around the bedroom, and noticed the bassinet placed between the bed and the hearth. “Merle is here?” She looked down again at her unconscious husband. “Oh, my poor lonely raven.” She stooped and pressed a kiss to his hair. She heard a bit of rustling from the crib. “Merle? Momma’s home, Merle.”

There was more rustling, and then a tiny pair of pale hands grabbed at the lip of the crib. The baby’s face half peeked out, dark blue eyes scanning his surroundings until he found the source of his mother’s voice. Merle burbled happily at the sight of her.

“Did you help take care of your father? You’re such a good little boy.”

Merle cooed again before his fingers relaxed their grip and he disappeared back into the crib. Summer Ruby smiled, though the feeling of regret, of failure, did not loosen its grip on her heart.

“How am I to protect the whole realm when I can’t even be here for my family?”

Aymeric was uncertain that he was not dreaming when he opened his eyes and saw his wife staring down at him.

“There you are,” she whispered.

“Summer.” He reached for her, and misliked the way his hands trembled.

She intercepted his reach and folded his hands in her own. “Shh, just relax. The kitchen is getting something for you to eat.”

“Is that really you?”

“Of course.” She smiled ruefully. “The Echo prevents me from being possessed by an Ascian.”

“Oh. That’s… useful.” He had never really considered that possibility. “Are you well?”

“I should ask much the same of you, my love,” Summer Ruby said. “Nothing bad happened here while I was gone?”

“Nay, aside from me worrying a great deal. I was so frightened, Summer. I didn’t know what was going to happen to you.” He moved to sit up, but immediately regretted the motion and settled back into her lap. “The Ascian, he let you go?”

Summer Ruby frowned as she nodded. “Yes, I managed to convince him of at least part of the right path to take. So, he let me come home.”

“What of Zenos?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Just me.”

“I see. I’m sorry. He is your friend.”

He did not miss her hesitation, but was too tired to worry over it for now. “Where did he take you? What is he doing now?”

“What he is doing is beyond my knowledge. From what I do know of Emet-Selch’s habits, possibly just napping or indulging in an unhealthy amount of deep thought.” She looked out away from the bed, in the direction of the bassinet and fireplace. “As for where he took me, I would rather not say. It is a private location.”

“Private?”

“For Zenos and I, yes.”

“Ah, I see.” Aymeric decided to leave that bit of information alone for the time being. “I am glad you have returned. I was just... “ He made an embarrassed noise. “By Halone, I am nearly ashamed to say that I fell apart. The Ascian just snapped his fingers and was gone, and you were gone, and--” Tears stung at his eyes. “I thought he was going to kill me.”

“So did I,” she murmured. She closed her eyes, and Aymeric saw the tips of her ears droop slightly.

“I--When you feel up to it, you will have to tell me what happened after you disappeared.”

“Oh, my love, there is not much to tell. Just a lot of yelling about the past, and our respective failures.” She sighed. “Emet-Selch wanted to keep me all to himself, and I had to convince him otherwise.”

“Is he a danger to Ishgard? I mean, to you, to our family--”

“I know what you mean.” Summer Ruby shrugged. “Any man can be a danger. You know that.”

“I do.” He cleared his throat. “Even a good man with proper motivation, yes?” He hoped that didn’t sound too bitter on his own part. He had not forgotten his own well-intended errors.

“That’s right. As for Emet-Selch, I believe that as long as he can keep his feelings in check, then he should be safe enough a man to allow into Ishgard.”

“It is not as though we can really keep him  _ out _ of Ishgard.”

She sighed. “That too.” Summer Ruby opened her eyes and looked at him. “I’m sorry. I feel as though we’ve had this conversation about Zenos as well. I don’t--I really didn’t mean to keep putting Ishgard in danger like this.”

“I know you didn’t.” Aymeric looked up at her and flashed what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “But, fret not. Ishgard is used to being in danger. You’ve just attracted a different sort of beast to our walls.”

“And does that anger you?”

He stared at her. “No. I just fear that I will not be shield enough to keep us safe.”

“I worry the same of myself.”

Two days passed in quiet. It was admittedly rare to have two days of true quiet in Ishgard, even after the end of the Dragonsong War, and the lack of anything to call for his attention set Aymeric ill at ease. He had sent a servant to the Congregation to check on things, and Lucia had sent a simple report back saying that nothing of interest was happening. Though he was feeling much improved with his wife’s return and food in his stomach, he still felt uneasy.

“You are just a man of business and action, that’s all,” Summer Ruby said when he voiced his concern.

“You don’t think it has anything to do with knowing that both Zenos  _ and _ an Ascian are out there somewhere, lurking about, up to who knows what trouble?”

She paused in combing little Merle’s hair. “I think we would know if either of them were up to trouble. It’s been two days.” His wife tilted her head to the side, and he could see her dark blue eye fixed on him. “You could also stop assuming that they’re up to mischief.”

He frowned. “Apologies, but despite your fondness for the both of them, I have a hard time so readily coming to believe that either of them are completely capable of not causing trouble.”

Her frown mirrored his. “I know they can.” She sighed and looked away. “Is this what it’s going to be like, if Zenos ever comes back to Ishgard? You pacing about anxiously for the rest of your days, waiting for him to snap and kill the whole See?”

“I’d rather it not be, but there is that possibility.” Aymeric sipped his tea. “Summer, people don’t just  _ change _ like that. Zenos was ready to kill me a few months ago just to get to you, or have you forgotten?”

“I haven’t forgotten. I know full and well what Zenos is capable of.” She set the baby down in his crib. “And I am not so naive as to think that because he is enamoured with me, and gentle toward me, that it extends to any other person on this star.”

Aymeric sighed.

Summer Ruby took his hand. “I just don’t want you to be on your deathbed before you think to give Zenos a chance to prove his worthwhileness.”

“I--” He shook his head. “I can make no promises, Summer. Nothing beyond my love for you and my willingness to trust your judgment.”

She squeezed his fingers. “I will start with that, then. That is plenty.” She smiled. “Come, dinner should be ready soon. Let’s get you comfortable.”

Aymeric started to mumble a protest, to insist that he was not an invalid, but decided against the motion. It was a comfort, a blessing from Halone herself, to have his wife pressed at his side with her arm wrapped around him for support. 

After making sure that Merle was content and taken care of, they went to the dining hall. The place settings had already been arranged for the evening meal, and a few bottles of wine set out for selection, but no food was yet present. Summer Ruby helped Aymeric into his usual seat before moving a few dishes to his side of the table, so that she might sit next to him.

“I’m not going to swoon into my soup again,” he said. She just smiled at him.

“I know, but I rather like sitting close to you now and then.”

Aymeric blushed and covered her hand with his own. “Ah, yes, it is nice.”

“I mean, if it is just we two dining, then there’s no need for decorum…” Her words trailed off as she looked toward the fireplace. To see her gaze shift brought to mind the last time their meal had been interrupted, and Aymeric clenched his jaw.

A portal, somewhat meager and flickering, opened in front of the fireplace. Aymeric felt his muscles tense as Zenos stepped through the portal. It took a moment for his mind to register the lack of confidence in the prince’s movement as he stepped forward. He lurched forward as though tugged by an invisible rope and not his own energy. The portal snapped shut.

“Zenos!” Summer Ruby rose from the table and rushed over to the other man. “What are you doing here?”

Aymeric could not help but bristle as she led the Garlean to a seat at the table. The man looked exhausted, he thought, but Aymeric knew that even a wounded dragon could be deadly. Zenos lay his left forearm on the tabletop, and his weight shifted in the direction of this anchor.

“What of the Ascian?” he asked. Zenos’ long black lashes flickered as he shifted his gaze to the lord of the house. Aymeric fought not to cringe at the depth of the shadows beneath his pale eyes.

“Still here. Sleeping. Meditating.” Zenos groaned and rested his forehead against his arm. He was silent for several breaths before speaking. “Please. I need something to eat. The old fool barely remembers to…”

“Food.” Aymeric heaved a sigh. “You came here for food. Of course.”

His wife murmured: “Let me speak to the cook.”

Aymeric watched Summer Ruby hurry off to the kitchen. At another meager noise from the Garlean, he shifted his attention to the other occupied seat.

“Tell me,” he prompted, and waited for an acknowledging noise from the other man. “Did he hurt her at all?”

There was a muffled ‘what?’ from the other seat.

“The Ascian. Emet-Selch. Did he hurt my wife?”

“Did he hurt my wife?” Zenos mumbled in an echo. “Physically, no. She is whole. He has sworn to not harm her.” He pushed himself into a seated position, and Aymeric was appalled by the amount of effort it took the man. Zenos looked toward the hearth. “She weeps, though. I cannot say he is entirely at fault for that. It does not take much to make our lady cry these days.”

Aymeric frowned. “Why did he let her leave?”

Zenos huffed softly. “He didn’t  _ want _ to. What man would  _ want _ to let her go?” His fingers curled against the thin tunic that covered his chest. “Certainly not I. Certainly not you, mm?”

“Indeed.” He gestured across the table. “You look wretched.”

“I’m possessed by the spirit of a wretched, depressed old man,” Zenos said, the faintest hint of sarcasm rattling in his voice. “It is only fitting that I should look the part.”

“Is he trying to kill you?”

“Perhaps. Perhaps he is trying to take his frustrations out on me. Perhaps he doesn’t care at all.”

Aymeric did not know what to say to that. So he said nothing.

After a few minutes Summer Ruby returned. The servants were not far behind. They set dishes out in front of Aymeric before rounding the table to place several more before the uninvited guest.

Aymeric was not a cold man inside. He was not immune to the stirring of pity he felt while watching Zenos wolf down everything he could get a hold of to put into his mouth. There was an urgency to the man’s movements that Aymeric understood. He was a vessel, and the Ascian could reassert control at any time.

“Is there no way to convince the Ascian to take better care of his vessel?” he asked his wife. She was again seated at his side, but watching the unfortunate Garlean.

“Eat your soup, dear,” she murmured.

Aymeric obediently swallowed down another comforting spoonful of warm, creamy soup. “You have some sway over him.”

“I don’t know what you expect me to do, Aymeric. I can’t just yell at Emet-Selch like he’s a child and expect him to behave.”

“It would be entertaining to watch you try,” he said. Zenos snorted from the other side of the table.

“What do you care?” Zenos groused before taking a bite of roasted meat.

“I do not enjoy the suffering of others,” Aymeric said, keeping his voice calm despite his own lingering weariness. “But you might consider it a gesture of selfishness on my part. If you suffer, Summer Ruby does as well. And I want for her happiness.”

She pressed her hand lightly to the back of his left hand. Zenos said nothing. Both men continued to eat.

Summer Ruby murmured: “There’s no need for posturing and locking horns right now.”

“I’m sorry,” Zenos said. Aymeric blinked and looked across the table, but the younger man was focused on the food before him.

“I did not mean to upset you,” Aymeric said.

“I know.”

Aymeric covertly watched the man across the table eat. “So there’s nothing you could say to him? Emet-Selch, I mean. To make him eat.”

Summer Ruby sighed and shook her head. “I tried when I was there, and could barely make him eat anything.” She frowned and rubbed her thumb along her lower lip. “It can’t be that he  _ doesn’t _ eat. He was in a mortal body for decades. Someone would have noticed if he didn’t eat over all that time. And his appetite was fine on the First--”

“He was a pig,” Zenos grumbled from across the table.

Aymeric cleared his throat at the interruption. “Beg your pardon?”

“I grew up in the Imperial palace, in case you might have forgotten that little detail of my fantastically awful formative years.” The Garlean paused to take a gulp of water. “My great-grandsire was a man of excess. He lived to show off, including at the dinner table. Perhaps he should have specialized in theater instead of genocide.”

Aymeric understood having misgivings about one’s relatives, but he had not expected it from the prince. He hadn’t foreseen much in the way of emotions at all, so this vitriol was sudden and unanticipated from the man.

“You didn’t care for your relatives?”

“Care for them?” The man’s brows drew together, and his low voice quickly rose to a shout. “Do you think I  _ wanted _ to end up like this?” Zenos half rose from his seat. “That I wanted to be a monster, just some name to rally the men, to--” He stopped, body jerking as though someone had yanked hard on that invisible rope.

“Zenos?” There was trepidation in his wife’s voice.

“Not now--” Zenos wheezed, his pale blue eyes widening until the whites were visible around the irises. His voice dropped to an urgent whisper. “No, please, not here, go back to sleep, I--”

Aymeric was dumbfounded by the naked look of terror on the man’s face.

“Zenos!” Summer Ruby stood and started to move, but Zenos shook his head and Aymeric grabbed her wrist. The Garlean nearly knocked his chair over as he lurched to his feet.

“Aesta, I am sorry!” 

And then Zenos was gone, half pushed, half pulled through a swirling portal of black and violet.

For a long moment there was silence in the dining room. Aymeric looked at his wife, saw the tears in her eyes and released his grip on her arm to pull her to him. Her dark cheeks were damp.

“What in Halone’s name was that?” Aymeric murmured, more to himself that her. He pressed his face against her shoulder, trying not to shudder at the memory of the look on Zenos’ face when the  _ thing  _ inside him began to reclaim control. “What… what happened to the madman who threatened to cut me down in my own front hall?” How was he supposed to direct his ire at  _ that _ ?

He felt her hand soothe down his back.

“He is still the same man,” Summer Ruby said in a whisper. “But there is more to a man than just the worst of him.” She gently pushed him away and gestured at the table. “Finish your soup, dear.”

Aymeric did not want to eat his soup. Looking at it made him feel queasy. Looking across the table, at the abandoning glasses and dishes made him feel--what did it make him feel?

“I don’t understand,” he said.

She rubbed at his back like he was naught but a child having a bad dream. “It is a lot to explain.”

“Please try.”

Summer Ruby hesitated, her hand pausing in its circuit. “Are you sure? I was going to tell you everything once this had been resolved. It’s… not the easiest thing to digest.”

“Please.” He shook his head. “Whatever keeps taking you away from me, I need to know what it is. I need to understand it as best I can, even though I am aware that it may be somewhat limited compared to you or Zenos.”

She sighed. “Oh, but to be unencumbered by knowledge again.”

Aymeric frowned. Her words recalled those of Emperor Varis at the failed parley meeting. The Emperor had lamented his knowledge as well. He swallowed.

“I am no coward. I want to know. I need to know.”

His wife leaned across the table and retrieved one of the forgotten bread rolls. “Alright. I’ll see how well I can explain everything for you.” She sat again next to him. “Do you remember when I admitted my infidelity? The story I told you, about the old world?”

Remembering that peculiar tale of devastation was enough to give him a headache, but he nodded. “Y-yes. I believe I recall most of it.”

Summer Ruby took a bite from the roll and chewed with a pensive look on her pretty face. Finally she swallowed and looked at him. “Good. That’s where this all began, a very long time ago.”

When she had finished her story, Aymeric’s head hurt even worse.

“So you--” He pressed his fingertips together and tapped them against his chin. “You don’t hate Emet-Selch.”

“No, I don’t.”

“And, if I understand the story, you consider him to be a very good friend of yours.”

She nodded. “Yes, that’s right.”

“So, you aren’t mad at him?”

“Oh, no, I’m furious with him half the time.”

He stared at his wife. “As I’m struggling to make sense of that statement, could you give me a point of reference and tell me how often you’re angry with me?”

Summer Ruby took a sip from one of the glasses on the table. “Not very often. In comparison, you’re quite the extremely well behaved and pleasant sort of man. Emet-Selch, on the other hand, has been smug and vexatious for more than twelve thousand years.”

“And yet you consider him a close friend.”

She shrugged. “He isn’t without his charms.”

Aymeric sighed. “I need wine.”

They sat and downed a glass of wine in silence.

Eventually, Summer Ruby said: “I need to go back to them. I need to fix this.”

Aymeric still felt overwhelmed by everything she had told him, so all he could say was: “What?”

“Zenos and Emet-Selch. I can’t let this continue to drag out.”

“Is that the wine or fear speaking?”

She peered into the bottom of her glass. “Perhaps both.”

“How do you plan on ‘fixing’ this problem, my love? I know little of magic myself, but this sort of thing seems beyond even your usual line of work.” He grimaced. “If anything, I find it all rather frightening.”

“I know.” Her gaze settled on the abandoned seat opposite their own. “So do I.”

“What will you do?”

“I--It is better that I don’t give you all the details.” Summer Ruby curled a finger against her chin. “But I will go, and convince Emet-Selch to comply, and then send Zenos back here until I can return. I will send him with a code word so you know it’s safe. My return should…” She made an uncertain noise. “I don’t know. It shouldn’t take more than a few days. But I know I can trust you to make sure Zenos is tended to until I come back.”

“What of the Ascian?”

For a moment she frowned, but then the look faded and was replaced by steel, and Aymeric was not gazing upon his lovely wife, but the Warrior of Light.

“Whether or not Emet-Selch returns depends on his choices.”


	37. Wild Roses

Emet-Selch was waiting for Summer Ruby when she made her way down the trail a short while later. His pales eyes swept over her when she stopped a few yalms away, likely noting her combat gear and traveling pack.

“My, but you look ready to go on an adventure,” he said.

“I might be. It depends on where the evening takes me.”

“Here I was, trying to enjoy the sunset all by my lonesome, when you come strolling in to my sanctuary.” Emet-Selch pouted a bit.

“And what of Zenos?”

She caught the way his face ticced briefly before he masked his expression. “He doesn’t seem to care for sunsets, quite honestly.”

She looked at the sky beyond the cliffs. “They do pale in comparison to the ones in Amaurot.”

He smiled. “Yes, they do.” Emet-Selch held out a hand. “Why don’t you set your bag down, sit with me for a bit?”

“That was the plan, yes.” Summer Ruby went over to the steps leading up to the shack’s door and set her pack down. “Emet-Selch... “ She shook her head. “Hades, we need to talk.”

“That’s all we seem to do when we’re together these days.” The Ascian heaved a sigh. “But, I do suppose that we have a lot of talking to catch up on. So, what will it be?”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “You can’t keep torturing Zenos. He hasn’t done anything to you, to deserve such treatment.”

“T-torture?” His gold eyes widened, and he looked away. “I can’t say I’ve been torturing the boy…”

“What happened to not lying, Emet-Selch?”

“I’m not!” He still looked away. “Forgetting to eat isn’t _torture_.”

“Let me feel his aether.”

“Wh-” Now Emet-Selch turned to look at her. “What?”

She uncrossed her arms and moved closer. “Let me feel it.” Summer Ruby pushed back the gilded cuff of his sleeve and grabbed at his wrist, just above the crisp white hem of his glove. He made an uncertain noise, and she felt the muscles of his arm flex as he prepared to pull his hand away. She focused her aether into the root of his palm.

“I don’t understand, what do you care--” Emet-Selch flinched. “Percy, stop!”

Aether did twist in response to her intrusion, but it was not that of the Ascian. In truth, she could scarcely feel his presence at all, and yet somehow he remained quite firmly in control of his unwilling vessel.

“You are stealing his aether,” she growled down at him. “And you need to stop before you kill him.”

“I--what would you have me do, my dear? He is the only one strong enough to sustain me in this state.”

“Then why aren’t you taking proper care of your vessel? You’re no amateur at this, Emet-Selch. You’ve been doing this at least for decades, and likely since the Sundering. So, you aren’t taking care of Zenos, your own great-grandson, on purpose.” She tightened her grip. “Why?”

“You’re hurting us,” Emet-Selch said with a faint whine.

“Then just answer my question. Why are you doing what you are doing?”

He huffed softly. “His will is still very strong, as it has been since the beginning. Nearly two weeks and the boy refuses to budge an inch. The only way to keep him in line is to, well, keep him weakened.”

Her nails bit into the pale flesh of his arm, and Emet-Selch yelped in pain.

“What are you--”

“This is going to stop, now.”

“I told you, it can’t.”

Her mind had already settled into a decision before she had kissed Aymeric good-bye and teleported from Ishgard. “I’m taking you home, Hades.”

Emet-Selch swallowed and leaned away from her. His lips parted as though to question her, but nothing came out.

“I want you to leave Zenos and come back into me. I will carry you to the First, and then you can--can--you can get out and go to the Lifestream.”

“You would just throw me out, like last night’s rubbish?” His eyes watered. “Is this how you treat those you care for?”

“You died, Hades. I killed you. You should have already gone to the Lifestream.”

A tear streaked down the side of his nose. “I don’t want to be dead, Percy. Not now! Not when being alive would finally mean something again!”

A surge of aether pressed against her grip, but she did not relent. She pushed back with her own--not roughly, but with a gentle firmness.

“I do not think my heart or soul or mind could carry the weight of knowing that I had sent you to your end twice,” Summer Ruby said. The flow of aether abated, and Emet-Selch sagged against her, coughing for breath.

“Please--” He coughed, cheeks wet now. “Please, _Matrisiram_. Spare me.”

She exhaled slowly, and held her free hand out to the man. “Release my conflux from his bondage, and swear upon your love for me that you will bring no harm to those living in Ishgard.” She turned her palm up. “Do this and I will spare you, Emet-Selch.”

He stared at her offered hand. “You struck the same accord with Zenos.”

“Of a similar variety, yes.”

“Do you really care so strongly for the people of Ishgard?”

She smiled down at him. “In this lifetime, they are to the Matrisiram as Amaurot yet remains to the Emet-Selch. I have made them my jurisdiction.”

“You did that as the Warrior of Light.” He managed to sound chiding through his tears.

“All the same. My offer stands."

Emet-Selch looked down at their hands. There were already bruises beginning to show through his glamour.

He reached with his empty hand and pressed his palm to hers. “I accept your offer.”

Summer Ruby sighed with relief and released her grip on his wrist. “Good. Is Zenos awake?”

“I will wake him. But, first--” He raised his right hand and gave his fingers a quick snap. A length of thick black cloth appeared in his palm. “I will place myself back into that den I made through your left eye. But, since I have awakened and increased my power somewhat, I will be harder for your mind to ignore. If you keep that eye covered, then it will be as though I am sleeping. It will prevent me from draining too much of your own aether.”

She took the cloth with a nod. “I see. My thanks.”

“But, of course.” He rubbed his eyes dry and fixed her with a sad smile. “I must say, it truly was lovely to be able to see you like this. Even though it has caused you naught but heartache.”

Summer Ruby brushed back the white fringe from his face. “We will see each other again.”

Emet-Selch nodded and cleared his throat. “Alright, then. ‘Tis best for you to sit down. I don’t want to risk you swooning and hitting your head.”

He helped her settle down on the damp wood of the steps, and then knelt next to her.

“Just relax and keep your eyes right on mine. This won’t take but a moment, remember?”

“Thank you, Emet-Selch.”

He huffed a wistful sigh. “Anything for your happiness, my dear Percy.”

Emet-Selch leaned in close, and she felt the surface of his third eye press lightly to her forehead. There was a spark, a dancing twist of aether from one body to the next, and a nearly familiar lance of pain. It was like her Echo activating except more focused, more personal, no random chance to it. Summer Ruby stared into his eyes, and the brilliant gold stared back.

She heard him whisper: “Just relax…”

Then she blinked, and the gold shifted to that of a pale blue that her heart and soul were intimately familiar with. For a moment her thoughts felt thick and fuzzy, and a headache settled just above her left eye. Then Zenos groaned and sagged against her, and she nearly forgot her own pain as she hurried to keep him from falling.

“Zenos!”

The Garlean groaned and pushed away from her. He looked ill, she thought, his skin sallow and cheeks sunken. Summer Ruby saw a flicker of movement to his side. Emet-Selch was standing there, arms loosely crossed over his chest. He was watching her, and paying nearly no heed to the vessel from which he had just departed. She got to her feet, keeping a grip on Zenos’ arms.

“Can you stand?” she asked gently.

“I--yes, I can stand.” His pale eyes darted about, scanning their surroundings. “We’re alone?”

“You can’t see him?”

“No.” Zenos frowned and glanced around a second time.

“I’m just in your head now, dear,” Emet-Selch said. “No one else will be able to see me like this. Unless perhaps they look particularly closely at your soul. I’d be a bit of a red smudge on your blue beauty, then.”

“He’s just in my head,” she told Zenos. “How do you feel?”

He considered his answer. “Tired. But also a bit overwhelmed by emotions. Memories of emotions.”

“Yours?” 

“Ah, yes. A few times removed.” He swallowed and captured her face in his big hands. “You’re very beautiful, Aesta, did you know that?”

Emet-Selch grunted in distaste as Zenos kissed her, though when Summer Ruby closed her eyes to lean into his embrace, the Ascian’s irritated presence all but vanished.

“Oh,” she said when Zenos finally pulled away. “That is right. He said to cover my eye.”

With some aid from Zenos, she managed to secure the black length of cloth over her left eye. It was a bit uncomfortable, but she found that the pain and pressure in her temple abated with the light blocked out.

She looked up at Zenos, feeling, for the first time in a few weeks, like she was actually alone with the man. He frowned as he returned her gaze.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

“What, save your life again?” Summer Ruby returned to her seat on the steps.

Zenos growled faintly in frustration and settled his weight next to her on the wood. “I could’ve handled him.”

“You couldn’t, Zenos. There’s no shame in admitting it.” Summer ruby shook her head, and he looked away.

“I wanted to handle the Ascian on my own. Elidibus fled from my body at the first sign of confrontation. But the old man was no craven.”

“He was too desperate to act a coward,” she said.

“I am aware. I have had no proper companion but that man and his anger and his longing.”

“Well, he’s gone from you now.”

Zenos grunted. “You still shouldn’t have done that. What if he harms you?”

“Aside from a bit of a headache, he won’t cause me any harm.”

“You believe that?”

“I have to.”

“Aesta…” Zenos turned to face her. He looked at her, brows pinching in thought. “Persephone?”

“That’s right.”

“And you and I were…” A blush appeared on his sunken cheeks. “I know not what to think of that.”

“Then, don’t worry about it. That was in the past, right?”

“I do not worry. But I can still feel the bond between us.” He looked alarmed. “I think I have felt it since first we met. You wormed your way into my fascination as nothing else in this dreary world did.”

“Perhaps so.”

“Did I really fall in love with you, then? Or was it just some forgotten thing?”

She smiled. “Like I said, there’s no reason you couldn’t fall for me twice.”

“Ah. I suppose that is true. You are quite remarkable.”

“We can discuss that later, if you want.”

Zenos nodded slowly. “Perhaps.” He hesitated. “If I find--if I remember something that I think you might like, or find interest in, might I show you?”

Summer Ruby swallowed back a laugh at his enthusiasm. “I don’t see why not, but you shouldn't push yourself too hard right now. You need to recover your strength.”

“I shall.” 

“How does your head feel?”

“Quiet, but for my thoughts. No bitter old man intruding.”

She touched the black cloth covering her eye. “Depending on what happens, Emet-Selch might return to the Source. He might follow me to Ishgard.”

The Garlean’s face was a cold, blank mask, but sensed no anger from him. “As your friend.”

“That’s right.”

Zenos huffed softly. “I shall return to Ishgard as well. As your… paramour.”

Now she laughed. “Is that what you are now, Zenos? The paramour of the Warrior of Light, instead of the crown prince of Garlemald?”

“I care not for all the titles, Aesta. I will be whatever I have to be, in order to stay near you.”

She leaned against his side, for a moment quietly glad that he was whole and safe, glad that he would be okay. His breath was warm against her ear. She felt their aether touch where their bodies did, the edges blurring together, as they must have an eternity ago.

‘ _What would you have of me_?’ Zenos’ voice rang gently in her mind, each word a resonant note.

‘ _I--_ ’ Summer Ruby tried to reply in kind, but could not. She could only assume that that particular flow of aether was blocked by the Ascian’s invasive presence in her head. She cleared her throat. “For now, I would just like you to rest and recover from this ordeal. I must conclude my business with Emet-Selch elsewhere, far from this star. But, I will send you back to Ishgard, and you are to go to my home. Aymeric will be expecting you.”

An inquisitive noise rumbled in his throat.

“Yes, I already spoke to him of my intentions before I came here.” She chuckled. “I’ve been working on better communicating my intentions with him. He does not deserve to be left in the dark when I go tearing off on some mad adventure.”

“That’s generous of you,” Zenos said.

Summer Ruby corrected: “Trying to be a better wife is not generosity.”

“Call it what you like.” He shifted his weight, listless and already visibly boring of the conversation. 

“I want you to just rest until I return,” she said. “Just rest, eat, and don’t antagonize Aymeric or anyone else.”

His chest heaved in a dramatic sigh. “You ask so much of me, my Aesta.”

“It’s for the best.” She leaned and kissed his chin. “Behave, and I’ll find a way to reward you.”

Zenos glanced down in the direction of her chest, and then back to her face. “A reward? Well…” His gaze drifted downward again. “I could go for another sparring match, though I don’t know where my weapon has gone off to.”

The Warrior of Light smirked and kissed his cheek. “I might know.”

Again Aymeric found himself waiting and worried over the fate of his wife. Again he found himself feeling powerless, useless, and unable to help her in any way. Except, she had said, to offer aid where it was needed. He could and would do that for her. He always had tried to be helpful to those around him. Perhaps he could manage this even for his enemies, or at least for golden-haired thorns in his side.

He supposed, were he careful, that Zenos yae Galvus could be a valuable ally to have on Ishgard’s side. He was as near peerless a fighter as Summer Ruby, after all, and such a strength could be invaluable in shoring up Ishgard’s defenses.

“Listen to yourself, Aymeric,” he murmured. “Little more than a month ago you were trying to have the man executed. And now you want to think of him as a possible ally?”

He would have to, though, for Summer Ruby’s sake. She would likely forgive him, one day, for turning Zenos out in the cold, but that would take far more effort than just putting up with his wife’s lover for a day or two. Zenos didn’t seem to be much of a talker, and Aymeric could appreciate that much of the man.

When it had grown dark out beyond the windows, Aymeric stood in the doorway to the master’s bedroom and watched as the servants lit the lamps. He stoked the fireplace in his room before going to check on Merle. The baby was asleep, little black curls a mess that Aymeric himself knew only too well. 

“Don’t worry, little one. Mother’s gone on another adventure, but she’ll be back soon enough.”

Aymeric sighed.

He had scarcely had time to sit and wait, accompanied only by his unease, before he heard a soft rustle out in the main hall. It was a distinct noise, like a banner gently unfurling in a breeze. Aymeric got to his feet and went out into the hallway.

Zenos was standing in front of the main doors, hands hanging at his side. Aymeric supposed the man was attempting to look unintimidating, but that was nearly impossible for such a fellow. He hissed a soft breath between his teeth.

“You really are going to have to learn to knock,” Aymeric said. The prince stared at him, as uncaring as the dead.

“I’ve no need for such trivialities.” 

“Of course not.” He frowned at the taller man. “Have you come with word for me, then?”

Zenos looked down at him. “I know not whither your _wild rose_ travels, but she told me to promise you that she will keep safe.”

Aymeric sighed so hard that it made his chest twinge with forgotten pain. “I see. Thank you, Zenos.”

“I am merely doing as she asked of me.”

“All the same.” He looked at Zenos, dressed in an unremarkable tunic and pair of trousers, and was reminded of the day they had both stood before the judges at the Tribunal. Zenos was still very tall and imposing even without any armor on, but so poorly garbed Aymeric could not help but think of a chocobo that had taken ill and molted too much of its plumage.

“What?” the Garlean growled. No, Aymeric told himself, it was not a growl, it was just how his voice sounded. He had heard his wife muse as much--that the younger man’s voice reminded her of a distant summer storm. It seemed an apt description--the man sounded dangerous even when he appeared to be completely calm.

“When Summer returns, I’m sure she will be happy to take you to the Crozier and see if she can’t find you some more suitable attire.”

Zenos’ lips pulled into a frown as he glanced down at himself. “The cold does not bother me.”

“Regardless.” He forced what he hoped looked like a reassuring smile. “It will make her happy, to see you looking your best.”

Zenos just squinted down at him, but Aymeric could almost sense the man’s hackles lowering. 

“Now, it is up to you whether you would prefer to have something to eat now or lay down to rest. I’ve selected a guest room upstairs for you. The bed in the room should be long enough to suit your frame.” He raised a hand. “And, before you ask, I am doing this because Summer Ruby asked it of me. I have been unable to do anything else of value for her as of late. The least I can do is be a proper host.”

“She is a difficult woman to feel worthy of,” Zenos murmured. “But her heart is weary beneath that hard facade. She needs all the help she can get.” Aymeric blinked in surprise and looked up at him.

“Yes, I’ve… come to realize much the same over the last few months.” He sighed and turned away.

“Do not beleaguer yourself over the matter. She hides her heart under that heroic exterior. But, surely you understand that better than I.”

Aymeric wondered what a man like Zenos yae Galvus could even begin to understand about a woman’s heart--especially one like that of his wife.

“Indeed.”

Zenos stared at him for a long moment before shrugging. “Well then. I will see these chambers you have chosen for me, but I would not object to a repast before I rest.”

The lack of condescension, of challenge, in the Garlean’s voice made Aymeric uneasy. He was expecting a fight out of the prince, but Zenos offered none. Summer Ruby had said the man would behave, but who was to say what someone like Zenos would do without her to keep him in line?

Aymeric nodded. “Very well. I’ll show you to the room, and then have a word with the kitchen.”

“Lead the way, Lord Commander.”

It was dark, the hour drawn late, when she reached the foot of the Crystal Tower. The researchers had all gone off to bed for the night, and so no one was there to see her leave. Summer Ruby stood in the soft blue light and removed the cover from her left eye.

Emet-Selch stood before her when she opened her eyes. He looked around the digsite until he saw the gleam of the portal leading to the First.

“Ah, we are here.” He looked at her. “Are you well? Why have you stopped?”

Summer Ruby watched him. He looked real enough, solid enough, but she knew he was just a projection of that which dwelled just above her left eye.

“Percy?”

“I’m fine,” she said. “It would just be strange if I arrived in the Ocular with my eye bandaged. The Exarch doesn’t need to know I’m bringing along a stowaway. Especially not you.”

The vision smirked. “I’m no stowaway, my dearest. I’m precious cargo.”


	38. The Light Beneath Dark Waters

The Crystal Exarch was present in the Ocular when Summer Ruby materialized a short time later. She wasn’t sure the other man ever left the room, but he at least always seemed to be there whenever she returned to the First. He was, as usual, all smiles at seeing her arrival.

“Ah, Summer Ruby! It’s been some time. More than a month, I’d say.” He smiled. “I was starting to think you had forgotten about us.”

She took a breath of the unnaturally still air and shook her head. “Oh, no, I’ve just been… very busy back on the Source.” She glanced around but did not see Emet-Selch.

“I see. Fighting the Empire?”

“Hardly, she’s been getting into much naughtier business than that.” The Ascian’s voice chimed snidely behind her, and Summer Ruby saw the man stroll idly past the left side of her head. She cleared her throat.

“Fortunately no, not yet. They’ve been unusually quiet, to be honest.” She took a step toward the doors, where Emet-Selch had already stopped, hands on his hips. The Exarch followed her.

“What brings you back to the First? Will you be staying long?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I mean, I have some business to tend to here, but I don’t know how long I’ll be around.” She looked down at the miqo’te and tried not to glance over at Emet-Selch. “Why, was there something that needed my expertise?”

“Well, no, not exactly.” The Exarch gripped his staff in both hands and fidgeted. Emet-Selch scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I just thought it might be nice to have a chance to talk with you.”

“That’s right, he’s still doing that hero-worship thing with you, isn’t he?” Emet-Selch sighed loudly. “Get in line, old man.”

Summer Ruby could not help but look at Emet-Selch, as he was doing his best to hold her attention. The Exarch saw the look.

“Oh, but you do have business to attend to, so…” His red ears drooped slightly.

She smiled down at him. “If I have time before I must leave, perhaps we might have some tea.”

The Exarch perked. “That would be nice, yes.” He gestured at the doors. “Safe travels, then, Summer.”

“Thank you.”

Summer Ruby was surprised to find the sun out when they exited out into the Crystarium. It had been night back on the Source, but here it seemed to be a few hours later.

“It’s morning?” 

“Things are still somewhat out of alignment between the two shards,” Emet-Selch said. “The Rejoining has been delayed, postponed for… some time. Time is flowing a bit faster here than on the Source, compounding to a few hours over the course of several weeks.”

She looked at him. “Really?”

“I have absolutely no idea,” the Ascian cheerfully crowed. “The spatial alignment of the shards has never been my specialty.”

“I see.”

They descended the steps and crossed the Exedra. At the Rotunda they stopped, and Summer Ruby held out her hand to the aetheryte to refamiliarize herself with the local ley lines. Emet-Selch stood beside her, head tilted back, seeming to study the bright sky through the ornate glass overhead. He did not squint, and he did not seem adversely affected by the brilliant morning light as he might have before.

“That’s because I’m part of you right now,” he said without lowering his gaze. She jerked slightly.

“Are you _sure_ you can’t hear my thoughts?”

“I am certain that they are lovely, but, no, I cannot hear them. I just get the general gist of things from looking at your aether.” He lowered his gaze to settle on her face. “Percy, could I ask another favor of you?”

Summer Ruby nodded, knowing from the somewhat doe-eyed look he was giving her that his request was something personal. “What is it?”

“I want to go to the library. There’s someone there I want to see.”

“I don’t see why not...” They weren’t in any particular hurry now. She walked to the Cabinet of Curiosities, Emet-Selch persisting after her. She had nearly gotten used to the way he would flicker out of existence whenever she blinked, her brain not quite able to smooth that transition out. There was a bit of a charming bounce to his step that she was not familiar with.

“Up to the top,” Emet-Selch said when they reached the Cabinet.“You want to see Moren?” She kept her voice low, knowing no one else could see Emet-Selch.

“You should want to see him, too,” the Ascian said, giving her a mischievously knowing smile.

“When did you ever meet the man before you died?”

“I did not, but I had time to poke a bit at your superficial memories. The things that would flutter through your mind whenever you ventured back to the First for the Scions. And, I saw him there.”

She hung back near the stairs upon reaching the top, but Emet-Selch hurried forward with a haste she could not recall seeing from him before. Her memories told her, no, Hades only hurried when he wanted something--an urgent little shuffle where he would try to dart in front of someone and bar their path, or a pointed stalk away when he was trying to avoid--

Summer Ruby blinked with realization as she watched Emet-Selch get far too close to Moren’s face with his own.

“ _Hythlodaeus_ ,” she whispered, and felt a pang in her breast.

“Oh, I could kiss you, you big dumb idiot,” Emet-Selch said, mincing in a circle around the librarian. “Percy, come here and pat his back or something. I wish to feel his aether.”

She knew the request was a bit peculiar, but could understand it completely. It was their old best friend, standing oblivious before them, tapping his chin thoughtfully while studying the pages of a book he had likely read several times before.

She politely touched the librarian’s shoulder, and he blinked and looked up from the tome.

“Ah, if it isn’t our very own Warrior of Darkness,” Moren said with a smile. “How can I help you this morning, Summer?”

She nearly had a hard time responding. Her awakened soul was too overwhelmed with the contact to that of her friend’s, however diminished. “Ah--I just thought I would check on things up here.”

He continued to smile up at her. “Everything has been quiet here. It’s been quite nice, without the alarms going off because of a sin-eater raid. I always worried they were going to get into the Cabinet and tear up the books...”

Emet-Selch’s hand covered her own, and she could feel his body tense as he mimed sucking in a lungful of air.

“’Tis naught more than his shadow on a sunny day,” he said. “But, it is still him. Perhaps I should weep. He wouldn’t be able to tease me for it.” He made a regretful sound when she pulled her hand away. “Fear not, my friend. Someday we will all be together again. Upon Zodiark’s name, I swear to you, Hythlo.”

She remained in the Cabinet a few minutes more, politely discussing things with Moren. Emet-Selch hung off to the side, arms crossed over his chest as though hugging himself.

When they moved on, she said: “You know, when you’re whole again, you can just come back and visit him yourself.”

“I could,” he agreed, “but, it is better if I do not. Besides, I would rather remain at your side. Just a little bit of Hythlodaeus can’t get himself into _that_ much trouble.”

Summer Ruby gave an amused snort. “Are we talking about the same Hythlodaeus?”

“Well, during your escapades on the First, did he ever try to get into your leathers?”

She smirked. “If he did, he was far more subtle about it than some other parts of him I’ve known.”

Emet-Selch swung his hands as his sides as he followed her away from the library. “That’s all he ever did when he wasn’t doing actual school work. Tried to make me mad with the knowledge that you and he were _consorting_ .” He sighed dramatically, as though this were the most ridiculous notion in the world.

“He was trying to get you to step in,” Summer Ruby said. “To stop being stupid and, you know, offer yourself to me.”

He made a pained noise and looked away. “I don’t want to talk about that right now.”

“You didn’t want to talk about it when we were only fifty, either.”

“It was in the past, and it was _my_ mistake, and it cannot be undone.” Emet-Selch’s voice was tense. “I’m no fool, Persephone. I know that when the shards are rejoined, things will not go back perfectly as to how they were before the Sundering. That world, that life, that happiness is all lost. But it is still worth the effort to restore what we can.” For a moment, his shoulders slumped further than normal. “It has to be.”

She looked at him, felt pity, and took his hand. Summer Ruby kept her voice low. “I know I should not say such things, being the hero and all, but… Perhaps one day all the shards being rejoined might be a good thing. There would be no more Calamities, no more need for the deaths of millions... But, not right now. There are too many things in this broken existence that I am fond of to have them destroyed.”

“When?” Emet-Selch asked.

“I don’t know. Ask me again after Aymeric has grown old and gray and died peacefully in his sleep.”

Emet-Selch was quiet after that. He held her hand while she focused on the distant aetheryte down in Amaurot.

When the humid air of Amaurot once more filled her lungs, she exhaled slowly and opened her eyes. Emet-Selch flickered back into existence before her, his arms crossed over his thin chest and something close to a scowl on his lips.  
“What’s wrong?” Summer Ruby asked immediately. He blinked and looked up at her.

“Oh, nothing, sweetheart. It’s just different to be here like this. For me, I mean. When you last came down here, I was not yet quite fully awake. And before then, well.” He shrugged. “You know what happened. You were there.”

“I was,” she said in reluctant agreement. She felt compelled to ask Emet-Selch if he was certain that he held no ire in his heart toward her for his death, but she decided to hold him at his word. “You know, the last time I came down here, I did so because I thought I saw you at the bar back at the Crystarium.”

“Curious.” He pursed his lips in thought. “I don’t recall that. Perhaps I was dreaming?”

“Perhaps. It rattled me, though, and so I took a trip down here. It was strange. The shades acted as though they recognized me, when before they had treated me like a wayward child.”

“Your soul was beginning to awaken,” said the Ascian. “Muchly due to my presence, I am sure, but I like to think you would have started to remember on your own.”

She thought of the Echo she had experienced during her last visit, but decided that it was not worth bringing up.  
“Did you…” He hesitated and brushed his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know, would you care to take a stroll before we part ways? Perhaps see if there is anything you remember, or might want to know more about?” He gestured at the looming architecture. 

“I don’t see why not. I’m not in a rush right now, are you?”

“Nay, I feel as though I have all the time left to this world.” Emet-Selch smiled and held out his hand. She took it, and they started away from the aetheryte plaza at a leisurely pace.

They walked through Emet-Selch’s beautiful, sad creation. Occasionally one of the shades would stop and give a polite half-bow, address them by title, and wish them a happy day.

After the second time they were stopped, Summer Ruby asked: “How do they see you? You’re not really here.”

“I’m here as much as you are,” said Emet-Selch. He squeezed her hand. “I am within all of this place, and so it takes very little of me to resonate with it. There just so happens to be more than enough of me inside your lovely head to make my creation aware of my presence.”

“Oh. That makes sense, I guess.”

He chuckled. “Think of it like your son. He got half of himself from you. And even though you regrettably haven’t been able to spend as much time with your son as you would like, he still knows you, yes?”

“He does.” She smiled. “He knows me, even when he hasn’t seen me in weeks.”

“‘Tis something similar here, just on a larger scale.”

“Hm.”

They continued walking. Although it was Emet-Selch’s image who strolled at her side, Summer Ruby found her thoughts drifting elsewhere, her soul tugging them along by invisible threads. 

“Tell me, Hades,” she said softly. “What would you have done, had you found out about Rigel before the Sundering?”

Emet-Selch made an uncertain noise in his throat. “I do not know. Though, I must admit to being truly impressed.” She felt the gentle caress of his aether against her palm. So similar to that of Zenos, and yet so blatantly different now that they were separated. “I knew your soul down to the finest details, Percy. At least, I thought I did. And yet you still managed to hide this whole second life from me.” He shook his head. “I never would have thought you were capable of lying to me.”

She thought of his own words spoken to the Scions. “An omission of information isn’t a lie if you don’t think to ask the question that would give you that answer.”

He grunted. “It’s rude to throw someone’s tactics back in their own face.” Emet-Selch waved a finger of his free hand at her. “Matrisiram, you knowledge-hoarding little minx. You--you--” He faltered. “I failed you. I took you for granted and I--”

Summer Ruby squeezed his hand. “Shh. That is all long gone, Hades. You are right. When things are restored, it will be as though we have all lived another twelve thousand years or more. None of us will be completely the same. But that does not mean that we should mire ourselves in our past regrets and failures. We learn from them, and move forward.”

“I love you,” Emet-Selch said in a hushed tone.

“I know. And I love you. I never stopped. A soul is an expansive thing, Hades, you know that better than most. It has room in it for so much love.” She swung their hands. “That’s what Amaurot was to you, right? In your memories, the ones that helped you build this. Countless souls, all bound together in a beautiful, intricate tapestry of love.”

His voice was strained when he spoke. “Everything we Ascians do, it was but for love of what had been lost. So, yes.”

Thoughts and memories drifted idly through her mind, stirred up out of the darkness of death and the passage of time, winged up to the surface as their hands slowly swung back and forth. A memory pricked at her mind, nearly unpleasant with its sharp, sudden appearance.

She slowed her step. “The residential district is near here, right?”

Emet-Selch smiled at her. “Yes, that’s right.” He raised a hand. “I can get us closer.”

Summer Ruby nodded.

A simple snap, and the world shifted around them. She supposed she had spent too many years teleporting via aetherytes for traveling by snap to be a jarring experience. They looked up at the building Emet-Selch had transported them to the front entrance of. Like most of the city, she could not see the building’s apex.

“This is my building,” she murmured. “Is it all furnished on the interior?”

“Just any rooms I had knowledge of,” he admitted. “So, yes, apartment 15-2E is fairly well furnished.”

She closed her eyes, letting the old memories flit forward. “I want to show you something.”

He hummed out a curious note. “Oh?”

Summer Ruby turned away from the entrance and looked down the hazy street. “Yes. You wanted me to tell you what happened when I disappeared after I left the Convocation, didn’t you? When I remembered.”

Now he hesitated. “I did, yes. I still do.” Emet-Selch swallowed. “The solution to a mystery that has plagued me for so long--how could I turn that down?”

“Let me show you, then.”

Summer Ruby led them down the street, Emet-Selch still holding her hand. They passed another building her memory recalled--the one Hades and Hythlodaeus lived in together--but she pressed on several more blocks before stopping. Here was another apartment building, as unremarkable as any of the rest, but looking up at it made something clench so strongly in her soul’s heart that tears stung at her eyes. For a moment she thought of Zenos, waiting for her back on the Source, and how easily he could accidentally bring tears to her eyes.

_The longing._

“This is the place,” she said.

“Percy, dear, are you alright?”

Summer Ruby rubbed her sleeve across her eyes and nodded. “It’s just a lot to remember.”

His aurum gaze flicked up the side of the building, and she could tell he was trying to determine what was special about this place. “I didn’t know anyone who lived here. It will be mostly empty, aside from the basic floor plan.”

“It’s okay. I can manage.”

They went inside, through the nearly vacant lobby, and took the elevator up.

“How long were--” Emet-Selch cleared his throat. “How long were you bonded before... before the end?”

She tried to remember. “Before I was Matrisiram. He was nearly a century younger than us, so um...” Her memories could not yet give her the specifics, and she shook her head. “I don’t remember yet.”

“Before you were Matrisiram,” Emet-Selch echoed in a thoughtful tone as the lift stopped and the doors slid open with a chime. “Centuries!”

Her fingers tightened around his as they exited the elevator. The long barren hallway shifted around them, the blank spaces filling with color and content--the walls a pale parchment color flushed golden in the gleam of the morning, the dark blue-gray of the carpeting, the tall windows at each end of the hallway letting in the last light of day, the nearly identical apartment doors all painted black with their uniform brass numbers. The scale of everything seemed to shift around them to better match what she was expecting in her fragmented little body.

“This is all coming from your memories.” Emet-Selch glanced up at her. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, no, it’s--it’s perfect.” The memory flickered through her mind--one last happy moment before everything fell apart. “This way.”

Summer Ruby stopped them in front of a door. She swallowed hard against another surge of tears and pressed her fingertips to the black paint. It swung open silently.

The apartment beyond did not render itself completely--Emet-Selch could only manage to generate what he could extract from her memory. So the shadows were deep and obscuring, but the colors shown were brilliant and beautiful. She held her hand out to the room, and let the memory fill its colored spaces.

[[She stepped through the doorway, pulling down the hood of her robes and removing her mask. There was something uncanny and familiar in the long wave of ruby red hair and eyes set to match _\--She could hear a low pining noise escape from Emet-Selch_.-- Her voice chimed in the strange language of the Ancients to the man seated on a loveseat that was facing the door. His face was beautiful, even half hidden under a curtain of long platinum hair.

_‘Love I’m home. Sorry I’m late, I know I promised, but Lahabrea insisted--’_

_‘It’s alright, darling. I was just reading the mail._ ’ He held up a folded piece of paper, and she hurried over to where he sat. She held her hands out for the missive.

‘ _Something sent to_ us _, here_?’ Her shoulders drew in slightly as she unfolded the paper and read. ‘ _But who even know_ s--” Her chiming voice faltered, and she looked from the paper to his face several times. She smiled, and tears gleamed in her red eyes. “ _Really_?” When the beautiful man nodded, she tossed the paper aside and threw herself into his arms.]]

They stood and stared at the moment, frozen in the time to which it had long been lost.

“The day before the Convocation settled on its plans,” Summer Ruby said in a careful tone. “My conflux and I received word that we had been approved to have our names added to the list of... of...”

“Hopeful parents,” Emet-Selch said, voice laced with realization. She nodded and wiped at her eyes. “Oh, _Persephone_. I did not know.”

“No, you didn’t. We made sure that you didn’t.” Summer Ruby sniffled, frustrated at her inability to stop the tears that kept escaping from her eyes. “When I left the Convocation, I blocked off my soul from tracking and came here. I knew the only person who might realize where to look was too incapacitated to give an honest answer. And so I stayed here, until nearly the end.”

“How did you end up out on the streets?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t remember. I think maybe I heard Zodiark’s call, or the fighting or--something. I got frightened.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” He sank to the floor of that recreated memory, pulling her with him. Emet-Selch wrapped his arms around her, pressing his face against the base of her ears as she wept.

“I never got a chance.” Her throat was tight and it was a challenge to get the words out. “Every time after, I died before I got another chance, before I could do the one thing Persephone wanted but was denied.” She shivered and pressed against him. “And the one time I finally managed, it nearly killed me.”

She felt his body startle against hers. Then he laughed, soft and sad.

“Your little blackbird.”

“Yes, that’s right.” She felt a stir of something in her breast at the thought of her child back on the Source. Affection primarily, mixed with protectiveness and concern for his future. She wanted her son to live, to grow, to thrive--she wanted to celebrate the desires of her youngest self finally given flesh. And yet, at the same time there was a twist in her heart, for the memories that still were slowly revealing their pages to her made her realize she could no longer properly fulfill her duties as the Warrior of Light. How could she possibly face down her ancient brethren, when she knew what they worked toward? When some part of her sat in her own shadow and wished for change?

“Is something wrong, my dear?” Emet-Selch’s tone of concern drew her back from her muddied thoughts. Summer Ruby leaned away from him and shook her head with a sigh.

“No, no, just thinking too much. About--” She looked to where her memory had played out for him. “About everything.”

“I see. That’s enough of this for now, then.” He snapped his fingers, and they reappeared outside on a bench. She sighed and leaned against the cool wood.

“I’m sorry if seeing that upset you,” she said. Emet-Selch was quiet for a long moment.

“I have not seen that version of you for a long time, outside of my thoughts.” He sighed. “To see you so happy with another man did sting, yes. But, you deserved your happiness, Percy, even if it wasn’t with me.”

“That’s charitable of you to say.”

Emet-Selch looked contrite, his brows drawing together as he turned his face away. “Yes, and someday I will surely feel the full weight of them.” He sighed. “But, for now, I still ache over my past mistakes.”

Her eyes stung, and she fought to keep them open. “I’m sorry.”

“Hm?” He tilted his head inquisitively.

For a moment Summer Ruby squeezed her eyes shut, and was alone, her companion’s presence completely evaporating. She wiped at her tears before forcing her eyes open again. Emet-Selch was leaning closer, the curious expression still on his haughty features.

“I’m sorry,” she said again. “I’m sorry I never said anything when we were younger. I should have just told you how I felt.”

A cold gloved finger wiped at a stray tear on her cheek. “Do you regret your relationship with Rigel?”

Summer Ruby thought through her memories of the gentle blossom-crafting man that had bound his soul to hers with joyful tears in his eyes. She thought of Zenos, in all his broken, flawed beauty. She shook her head.

“No.”

“Then, you’ve no reason to apologize. Just keep your promise to me, and all the bad bygones will remain just that. Gone.”

She considered his offer. “How is it fair, for me to be encouraged to forget about the bad parts of my past, while you cling to them so tenaciously?”

“Ah.” He _tsk_ ed almost playfully and looked away. “Ever the one to worry over the details.” Emet-Selch tipped his head back to gaze up at the nigh interminable spires of his creation. “My most beloved Matrisiram, the Emet-Selch needs you to understand that his position has left him nearly incapable of remembering exactly what it was to be just Hades. He knows he is Hades, but has been on the clock for so very long that he can scarcely recall anything but it. And to be the Emet-Selch for the last twelve-thousand years has been to suffer with the constant reminder that he has lost his family, his friends, and his loves. He is little more than despair in the shape of an old man.”

“Oh, Emet-Selch…” She thought she could feel the blackness of his emotions seeping in through their connection. Or perhaps she was just tired. “No wonder you always look a wreck.”

His offended noise of retort was cut off into silence as she closed her eyes. Her eyelids suddenly felt quite heavy, and it was a struggle to open them again. Emet-Selch was still close, his irritation having given way to a pout.

“You’re tired.” His hand brushed through her hair. “Keeping me like this is draining your energy. I do apologize.”

“I asked for it,” she said. “It just kind of hit me all the sudden.”

“Get some rest,” said Emet-Selch. “No harm will come to you here.”

“Are you tired?”

He smiled wryly. “I can’t say I wouldn’t mind getting some shut-eye. I do enjoy a nap.”

Uncertainty and the faintest brush of fear gave her pause. “But, you’ll disappear when I close my eyes to sleep. I’ll be alone.”

“Only on the outside.” He gently brushed his fingers over her temple. “I will be here, with you, even if you can’t see me or hear me. So sleep, my sweet. I will be here when you awake.”

Dawn broke perilously cold in Ishgard. The fire in the master suite had burned low and not kept the room as warm as it should have. Aymeric woke, face pressed into his wife’s pillow, to the sound of his son whimpering unhappily.

“Oh. Oh, bother.” He stumbled off the bed, hissing at the cold wood beneath his bare feet, and hurried over to the fireplace. “Yes, keep everyone safe, Aymeric. Can’t even keep a fire properly lit overnight.”

Once the fire had been stoked back to life, Aymeric turned his attention to his son. Little Merle made a piteous noise as he leaned over the side of the crib. He tutted softly.

“I’m so sorry, Merle. Oh, look at your poor ears.” Aymeric rubbed his hands together until his palms grew hot, and then folded his hands over the points of his son’s ears. The little half-elf whined and reached for him from his blanket cocoon. Aymeric scooped him up with a sigh. “Perhaps you’re better off staying with the Nanny, hm? Especially now that Papa has to babysit the big brooding Garlean.”

Merle mumbled to himself and snuggled close.

“Speaking of which, I wonder if our guest has gotten himself into trouble yet this morning.”

The baby made a disinterested noise, and while Aymeric was tempted to agree, he still made his way up the stairs. The door to the room Zenos had been given was open wide, but a quick peek showed no occupancy. Aymeric looked down the hall and noticed that the door leading out to the porch was cracked open. He sighed and went down to the door. After covering the baby’s head with the blanket, Aymeric pulled the door wide enough to look outside. The morning sky was brilliant and cloudless.

“Fury’s frozen tits!” Aymeric hissed under his breath at the frigid morning air. He hoped the baby did not notice.

Zenos was indeed out on the porch, still just garbed in his thin tunic and trousers. He was seated in a chair, bare feet propped up on an old stone table. He had a book open in his lap.

“What are you doing out here?” Aymeric called.

“Reading,” said the Garlean.

“Yes, but you’re outside, and--” He stopped, remembering that his guest was native to a frozen wasteland. He sighed. “Just come inside. Breakfast will be on soon, and you should eat.”

Zenos made a non-committal noise in his throat, and mumbled: “If you insist.”

It was difficult to tell what time it was when Summer Ruby woke from her rest on the bench. As promised, she had been left undisturbed by the shades and anything else that might have been creeping around Amaurot. And, also promised, Emet-Selch was seated near her head when she opened her eyes.

“Sleep well?” he asked, cheerful.

“Considering I’m on a bench deep underneath the ocean in the midst of a city full of ghosts… yes.” She sat up and stretched. “You?”

“Well enough.” He drummed his palms on his knees. “You should eat something before we go. I cannot teleport us through the gates that block the way to the Lifestream.”

“The gates…” She wrinkled her nose. “Do we have to go through the burning memory of Amaurot? I didn’t fancy that the last time.”

“In a fashion. It has the best access point.” Emet-Selch paused, watching her as she opened her pack to retrieve some of the rations she had brought with her. “Lovely looking biscuits.”

“Aymeric’s got a good chef,” she said. “Access point?”

“You remember in Rak’tika, when I retrieved your friend from the Lifestream?”

Summer Ruby chewed slowly. That moment in time seemed ages ago, though it could have only been, what perhaps five months ago at most? Perhaps six? She had lost track of the time. “An unambiguous act of kindness in order to earn our trust.”

“Your trust,” Emet-Selch said. “I did not need theirs, nor did I care to have it.” He hummed briefly. “I didn’t want to see my friend so sad, even if she did not realize my fondness yet.”

“Considering we’d already had sex by then, you weren’t exactly subtle about things.”

He shrugged. “All the same. You didn’t know about _you_ , yet.” Emet-Selch waved a hand. “That wasn’t the point of the query. What I meant was, in the Greatwood it was necessary to find a place with good resonance with the Lifestream. It is no different here. I simply blocked off the area to keep those pesky fishmen from wandering into it.”

“I see.” She started on another biscuit. “So you hid it in the midst of the fiery ruins of your beloved homeland.”

“I--” Emet-Selch grimaced. “It was for dramatic effect. I’ll clean it up before we go in, alright?”

She looked at him and smiled. “I'd appreciate it.”

He looked back, and his cheeks turned red as he smiled. “Of course, my dear.”

Zenos yae Galvus was not, Aymeric was inclined to say, the easiest person to be around for any length of time. He had always been under the impression that the crown prince of the Garleans was as cold and quiet as the lands he hailed from, and while that was sometimes true, it was definitely not always the case. Aymeric had expected Zenos to hide himself away in the room he had been given to wait out Summer Ruby’s return. Instead, the man stretched himself along the length of the couch in the study and remained there, despite the fact that Aymeric sat at the desk in hopes of reviewing a bit of paperwork delivered to him from the Congregation. 

He had only gotten through a few pages of a dull finances report when Zenos had opened his eyes and began to talk. He droned on for _hours_ , in a strange stream of consciousness monologue that mused over a peculiar variety of topics varying from Doman rules of engagement in combat to whether a wild or domesticated chocobo would be better suited to carry a man of his stature.

And then, as suddenly as his speaking had begun, Zenos fell silent once more and closed his eyes.

Aymeric didn’t dare say a word, and left the man to his peaceable peculiarities.

Over lunch, Zenos was quiet, as he had been over breakfast. He did not seem to speak much while eating, and whether this was habit or manners Aymeric could only be grateful for the relative silence. Zenos still ate like a man starved, and very politely thanked the servant who brought out another plate of food for him.

Zenos did not speak otherwise until the meal was nearly concluded. He took a sip of tea and carefully returned the cup to its saucer.

“Ser Aymeric, I must request a word with you.”

He glanced up from the apple tart he was eating. “Go ahead, then.”

Zenos folded his hands in his lap and squared his shoulders. “You are the leader of Ishgard, yes?”

Aymeric hesitated at the formality in the man’s tone. “As much as anyone is these days, yes. Why?”

The Garlean stared down his nose. He cleared his throat. “I need one of standing to hear my petition. And as you are here, you are the best to grant it an answer.”

“Petition?” Perplexed, Aymeric watched as the other man pushed away from the table and stood.

“On this day I, Zenos yae Galvus, do relinquish my rights of citizenship of the nation of Garlemald. Additionally, I renounce my claims and title.” His pale gaze remained fixed on Aymeric. “And I would petition for safe haven in the Holy See of Ishgard.”

Aymeric stared up at the other man, not quite certain he had heard the words correctly. What had brought this on, he wondered.

“Does Summer know about this?”

“No,” Zenos said. “But, I do this for her as much as myself.”

He lightly set his fork down on the edge of his plate and stood. “Are you certain about this? The Empire will mark you for death.”

For a brief moment Zenos smirked, and Aymeric knew he feared no man or woman of the Empire. “I am aware. I have made my decision.”

He swallowed and considered his response. “In accepting safe haven from this nation, you do so with the understanding that you will bring no harm to the Holy See or her people.”

Zenos nodded. “I understand and consent.”

Aymeric knew he would hear complaints from the Houses later over this, and even the nagging voice in the back of his head was already calling him a fool. The other leaders of the Alliance would be furious, and rightfully so.

But he knew that his wife believed in Zenos and his potential.

“Very well. By the power granted to me as the Speaker of the House of Lords, I, Aymeric de Borel, do accept and grant your petition. Bring peace to the people of Ishgard, Zenos Galvus, and may the Fury endow you with her blessings.”

He held out his right hand, and the other man reached and clasped it with his own.

And then, Zenos sat and picked up his cup of tea.

Aymeric watched him for a moment before sitting. “Well then, Zenos, what do you plan on doing here in Ishgard?”

Zenos stared into the cup for a moment before looking across the table. “I wish to be Summer Ruby’s knight.”

He had to bite back an immediate rebuttal to the idea-- _he_ was his wife’s knight, after all. But Aymeric was well aware he could not always be around to keep a protective eye on her. As though the Warrior of Light needed such things--Aymeric himself felt the one protected when Summer Ruby stood at his side.

He swallowed. “I believe that is something you will have to discuss with my wife upon her return to Ishgard.”

“Indeed.” Zenos unceremoniously slouched in his seat. “I think I’d like another cup of tea.”


	39. Forgiven Despair

Standing in the entry hall of the Capitol led to a strange concurrence of feelings. They were borne on a tangle of memories, some very old, others fairly recent in Summer Ruby’s own history. And Emet-Selch’s history, she supposed. She stood in quiet, admiring the carefully placed marble of white and brown, the gleaming metallic accents, and the wall lamps that gave off just enough light to add to the mysterious, important air of the place. Tilting her head back she could see the doors on the second floor of the cavernous hall, and even now there was a shade clutching several crystals to their chest as they shuffled from one door to the next.

“I don’t remember it being so busy in here before,” she said, eyes following the shade. At her side, Emet-Selch did not follow her gaze, but he still hummed softly in acknowledgement.

“Some of the presentation of the city is set to adapt to my own needs and desires when required,” he said. “And as I am presently attached to you, the city may be responding to some of your subconscious critiques of my work. Your memory makes you think that this room is too quiet, too empty, there should be assistants running around for their superiors, and so the city responds in kind.”

“It won’t--” She hesitated, lowering her gaze to his face. “It won’t bring up other members of the Convocation, will it?”

Emet-Selch frowned at her question. “No. None of their images are permitted. That’s why you never ran into yourself here. Not that I’m sure you would have recognized it as such, at the time.”

Summer Ruby looked down at her feet and closed her eyes. In the sudden silence she could not help but remember the last time Emet-Selch had spoken to her in this place. The fruitless confrontation before she killed him--the heartfelt but ultimately futile pleas of the Scions. Other memories, other conversations mixed in with the more recent ones--her first time coming to the Capitol building as Matrisiram. Emet-Selch presenting an uncharacteristic giddiness while showing her around. The friendly, circumspect kiss he had placed on the corner of her mouth outside her office door. She let herself dwell on those nearly halcyon memories, as they were so much more preferable to the pain that had followed.

She opened her eyes. Emet-Selch had his back to her, and was staring down at the tall double doors at the far end of the main hall. She remembered those doors, remembered Emet-Selch’s impassioned speech before them, remembered the doors opening to reveal darkness and flames beyond.

“Are you alright?” Summer Ruby asked. His shoulders jerked, and he half turned to look at her.

“I could ask much the same of you, _hero_ ,” he said. His brows drew together and he brought his fingers to his lips. “My apologies. That was needlessly cruel of me.” Emet-Selch looked back to the doors. “I was so needlessly cruel to you.”

“You were disappointed in me,” she said. “I’d disrupted your plans.”

“It is still no excuse.” His tone was sharp. “You don’t treat someone you love like that, even if they have failed you.”

“You were just doing your duty.” Summer Ruby reached and brushed her fingers along the cropped hair on the back of his neck. She felt his shiver at the contact. “And I was doing mine.”

His voice caught in his throat, and all he choked out in reply was: “Indeed.”

She took hold of his hand and started toward the doors. “Did you clean up?”

“Hm?” There was a faint tingle against her palm--not his aether, something else, some magical interfacing with the recreation of Amaurot. “Yes, no more falling skies and charred bodies.”

“Thank you.”

The double doors seemed impossibly tall as they stood before them. She was reminded of the doors that led into the Crystal Tower. Perhaps his nostalgia and loneliness had influenced the ostentatious design of the tower. She didn’t need to know now, and so did not mention the thought.

With a soft, familiar _snap_ , the doors creaked open. Beyond stood another hallway, superficially similar to the one they were already in, but barely lit. The smell of rain and wet earth met her nose. Curious, Summer Ruby walked through the doors, Emet-Selch in tow.

They walked for several minutes. The hall stretched long into the distance, dark as night at the end. Emet-Selch had let go of her hand and crossed his arms over his chest, chin tucked down in thought. She thought as well, trying to make sense of the corridor and their trajectory.

“I don’t understand.”

Emet-Selch looked up at her. “Hm?”

“The Underworld, the Lifestream, that is where souls go when they die. So how will you going down there bring you back to life?”

He spoke in a careful tone. “It won’t. Souls are souls--they do not die, they either exist or cease to be. The body houses the soul, and when the body dies, the soul is set free to rest below.”

“Then, if you had not partially gone with me, could you have come back on your own?”

He hesitated. “Perhaps. I do not know. In a way, I was sundered. That white auracite and all that Light, it ripped my soul to pieces. The core of my being fled to you, because I did not want to leave you again. I do not know what would have happened had it been cast into the Lifestream.”

She sighed. “And here I was, weeping for having killed you.”

“It was close enough to killing.”

Summer Ruby rubbed at her left temple. “So, what will happen?”

“In theory, I have enough energy now, thanks to you and Zenos, to be able to seek out the remains of my essence and pull myself back together into… something resembling my whole soul. In theory.”

“And, if you can’t?”

Emet-Selch shook his head. “‘Tis better not to dwell upon that what-if, my dear.” He unfolded his arms and touched lightly at her elbow. “Come. We’re nearly there.”

The hall ended in a simple black door, barely visible among the dim lighting. It silently swung open at Emet-Selch’s approach.

Beyond was an alcove, small in comparison to the expanse of everything else in Amaurot. Its perimeter was choked with greenery--fastidiously crafted shrubbery laced with silvery moss and golden blossoms. The ground was carpeted in neatly manicured grass. And at its center was a tree, its branches reaching to the brilliant blue of the false sky that shimmered overhead.

The tree itself was a curious thing, its bark black and gleaming as though fashioned from broken obsidian. Its branches were dressed thickly in leaves the color of--

“Starlight, yes,” Emet-Selch said. He smiled up at her. “Do you remember?”

“I made this tree,” Summer Ruby said. For a moment she stared up into the shimmery branches. Her memory stirred. “For you? Yes, it was a present. For your 200th nameday.”

He beamed. “That’s right. I admit, at the time I didn’t have much use for a tree, but I kept the concept. It was too beautiful a creation to leave to waste.”

“I made you other trees, though.”

“Yes, for various public works projects in the city. But this one was just for me. It was my favorite.” He rested his hands on his hips and nodded sharply. “I’m glad I kept the concept. It works very well here.”

“Is this the Lifestream?”

He chuckled. “No, of course not. This is just a bit of dressing up.” Emet-Selch took her hand and led her around to the opposite side of the black and silver tree. There, encompassed by the tree’s roots, was a large ring of polished white marble. She would have almost mistaken it for a bathtub, were it not recessed into the earth and unfathomably deep. There was no water in the basin, but an endless, twisting darkness. Summer Ruby stood cautiously near the marble, gripping her companion’s hand tightly. There flickers of blue and green below them, dancing amid an unknowable expanse of stars.

“That’s…”

“The Lifestream, as mortal eyes can view it, yes,” whispered Emet-Selch. She tore her gaze from the abyss to look at him. His golden eyes were wide with dread as he stared through the portal. 

“Hades? Are you okay?”

She heard the tremble in his voice as much as she felt his aether shudder between them.

“Percy, I’m afraid,” Emet-Selch whispered as he stared down into the roil of ethereal energy.

“I know.”

“Aren’t you?”

“Terrified,” she said. “What if I fall in?”

“I--You, you won’t. You’ll be fine.” He swallowed. His pale eyes were still wide, and in them she could see reflected the lights of millions of souls.

“Well, then, you’ve no reason to be afraid either. Because I’ll be here for you.”

“I--thank you.”

They both leaned and stared into the glow of the Lifestream. Summer Ruby swallowed at a lump in her throat.

“Emet-Selch?”

“Yes, my dear?”

She pulled her gaze from the light below and focused on the man at her side. “I just want you to know that, if something happens… I have forgiven you. You and your despair, you are forgiven.”

He looked up at her, and his lower lip trembled momentarily. Then he sniffled and looked away. “This light is too bright. It hurts my eyes.”

“You’re welcome, Emet-Selch.”

After a moment of silence he whispered: “Thank you, Matrisiram.” He cleared his throat. “I should--I don’t suppose we should delay this any further, then.”

“If you really think so.”

He shook his head and wiped at his right cheek. “No, but I--I know what I’m doing.”

She wanted to believe him, but the fear had not left his face. “Well. Then, let’s do this.” Summer Ruby looked down at the basin. “So, how do I get you out of my head?”

“Oh. ‘Tis simple enough.” He snapped his fingers, and a chunk of crystal appeared in his palm. At passing glance it could have been a piece of auracite, except that it was the color of the last fleeting moments of dusk. Emet-Selch held out the crystal. “Should be enough room in there for me. You just hold it to your forehead, as though it were my own. I can do the rest. Then you just…” He trailed off, voice wobbling with unease. “Chuck it into the Lifestream.”

“Is that all? There’s nothing else I can do for you?”

Emet-Selch shook his head. “No. You just have to let me go, Percy.” He mashed his lips together. “And, don’t wait for me.” 

“Are you sure?”

He nodded. “I don’t know how long it will take. And I am not truly certain how long you can safely stay here. If you must linger nearby, go back to Amaurot.” He pressed the crystal into her hand.

“I will. I mean--” Summer Ruby gripped the stone tightly. “You’ll come back, won’t you? I don’t want to be sending you to your end.”

She could tell his smile was meant to be reassuring, but it did not reach his eyes. “Of course I will, my dear.”

By the time lunch came to pass, Aymeric had ceased to be surprised by how well behaved Zenos was. He was fairly certain he was only behaving because Summer Ruby had told him to, but all the same Zenos dutifully arrived in the dining hall after being summoned by a servant. Aymeric considered the man’s color and appearance generally improved, despite having spent the morning napping out in the cold sun like an overgrown feline.

Zenos sat at the end of the table, back to the fireplace. He was wearing a fresh tunic, a dark gray thing of warm wool that Aymeric had sent a servant to fetch from the Crozier. It was intended for a Roegadyn and fit awkwardly, but Aymeric thought the look was an improvement to the tattered thing he had been wearing. Aymeric didn’t want to have to admit to his wife that he would be somewhat embarrassed to be seen in public with the man because he looked like he had wandered out of the Brume rather than a palace in Garlemald.

That was shallow of himself, Aymeric thought. But, it was a concession of vanity he was willing to allow. Zenos Galvus had been a prince until a few hours ago, it wouldn’t hurt the man to dress better, even if he plainly didn’t care about his presentation.

After several minutes of eating in silence, Zenos suddenly opened his mouth to speak.

“So…” Zenos stared down at his plate, turning his fork slowly between his long fingers. Aymeric watched the movement with a touch of unease before the man continued speaking. “Aesta--Summer Ruby, I mean--”

“Why do you call her Aesta? I’ve heard you slip a few times, now.”

“It means ‘Summer’, in my native tongue.”

“Ah. I see.” Aymeric considered what he knew of the Garlean language, which was not much, and looked at his plate.

Zenos prodded the tines of his fork against the side of his dish. “Summer Ruby, she told you about her past, then? When the world was whole?”

Aymeric reached for his glass of wine. “In so many words, yes. I can’t say I completely understand everything. But she said…” He sipped, stalling, wondering why Zenos was bringing this up. “That once upon a time, when the world was whole, she was part of the, ah, governing body whose members eventually became the Ascians that we know today. And that her best friend was the Ascian, Emet-Selch.” He frowned into his glass. “And that she doesn’t hate him, despite all the horrible things he has done.”

“That sounds about right.” Zenos tipped his head to the side. “Is she always this outrageously forgiving?”

“We could only hope to learn a fraction of the kindness she has in her heart,” Aymeric said. “That she manages to retain her Light despite all her suffering is a mystery to me.” He sighed and returned his glass, now half empty, to the tabletop. “I cannot help but feel that I have failed in my duties to her.”

“I recognize that feeling,” Zenos murmured. For a moment he was silent, staring at the fork, before looking down the table. “She did not mention me in that story, then?”

“You? No, I don’t recall that she did. Just that she was very close friends with Emet-Selch, and that was why she was going to take his trespassing soul back to the First rather than try to destroy him.”

“I was there, too,” the Garlean said. He opened his mouth to say something else but stopped and pressed his lips together. He was waiting for a response, Aymeric realized, and was forced to put thought into the simple words.

“You mean you were there in the past? With Summer and the Ascian?”

“Yes.” Zenos looked up from the tabletop, though his eyes were barely visible through the thick veil of his lashes. “We did not know until recently. We were aware that there was something between us--some strange draw between our aether of which we did not know the origin. It was only after I was possessed by Emet-Selch that we realized the truth of that strange pull.”

“In what way?” Aymeric asked, though he could not deny the pinch of dread in his chest, as though some part of him could already guess what the younger man was going to say.

“Memories,” Zenos whispered. “Faded, broken things that only made the faintest bit of sense when we were together.”

“And, what did your memories tell you, Zenos?”

The man’s larynx shifted as he swallowed. “Summer Ruby and Emet-Selch were indeed once the closest of friends, like two blossoms on the same stem. But I--” The Garlean’s face turned an interesting shade of pink, and he looked down at the table. “I was--my original self was--was Summer Ruby’s _conflux_ , her… husband. In secret. Emet-Selch did not know. He never knew, until just a few days ago. None of us realized it until Summer Ruby’s memories began to awaken.” Something strained in the man’s normally reserved tone. “She did not hide this from you.”

He stared at Zenos, mind trying to process the words. Again, as it had when Summer Ruby had told him about the original world and the Sundering and Ancients and all of that, his mind struggled to put sense to the meaning of what was being said. He had difficulty fathoming a world that was this world and yet not.

And now, Zenos had been married to _his_ wife?

Something cold pitted in his stomach. “So, where does that place me?”

The Garlean looked up sharply. “At her side. You are her husband, are you not?”

“Of course, but--” 

“Regardless of what my great-grandsire might say, the connections of a life long passed do not give rights that supersede those of the present.” Zenos folded his hands on the tabletop. “The only joy I have ever felt in this lifetime has come from Summer Ruby. And that was long, long before there was any kind of intimacy between us. It remains the same, now.”

“You love her.”

“Of course I do. But it has nothing to do with our souls being connected or anything like that. I love Summer Ruby because she is so peerlessly brilliant. She is the sun shining on a barren, frozen wasteland. She makes me feel alive.”

Aymeric felt tears prick at his eyes.

“I understand,” he choked out. “I wouldn’t have phrased it any differently myself.”

For a moment the other man was quiet. Then, he spoke in a low voice that was nigh eerie in its calmness: “Let us be allies, then.”

Aymeric’s brow furrowed at the suggestion. “Allies?”

“Her allies. We are both on her side, are we not? I have no real need for friends, but I must concede in the benefits of having two people who care for her looking out for her well-being, and not just one.”

He stared down the table at Zenos, at the monster of Garlemald, sitting calmly before him.

“I--I don’t know. This is a lot to process.”

Zenos grimaced and snorted out what sounded like a laugh. “Believe me, Lord Commander, I am quite aware of that fact.”

He thought for a moment. “Seeing as it would be to Summer’s benefit, I will… put your request to consideration.”

“You have my thanks. And, your wife’s as well, I should think.”

Summer Ruby knelt near the entrance to the Lifestream, her eyes closed. Feeling a touch nervous, she pressed the cool surface of Emet-Selch’s soul crystal to her forehead. At first there was nothing, and then a pinch and pull at her aether. 

The crystal grew heavy in her hand. It was a curious thing--to feel the weight of a soul in her palm. When she opened her eyes she was alone. The crystal glowed softly, its red hue achingly familiar. She pressed her lips to its now warm surface.

“Safe travels, my friend. May I see you again soon.”

Summer Ruby stooped and carefully dropped the crystal into the basin. There was no splash--instead a hungry surge of energy flickered out from the Lifestream. She watched as the light faded and receded back beneath the surface of the dark sea of stars. It was strange to sit above the eternal gleaming darkness and feel nothing and no one. She was alone, truly alone, as she had not in months.

After a time, Summer Ruby focused on the lines of the First and was able to pinpoint the distant, weak light of the aetheryte in Amaurot. She teleported back. It was quiet in the city, as she expected. Quiet, and yet busier somehow. The hooded figures were more numerous than they had been upon she and Emet-Selch’s departure. How was that possible?

“He borrowed them from your memories, before he left.” A chuckle. “You must’ve paid more attention to passerby than he, Matrisiram.”

She startled and turned, looking up into a masked face that was only an ilm or two above her own. The man’s lips were quirked in amusement.

“Hythlodaeus,” she said, and puzzled at his smaller size. “I don’t understand, why are you shorter?”

“You have remembered more, and so your perception of the world has changed. That’s all.” He smiled and patted her cheek. “By yourself this time?”

Did he mean Ardbert or Emet-Selch? She couldn’t be sure if he remembered their earlier meeting. “Yes, it’s just me.”

Hythlodaeus hummed, a soft playful noise that rattled at the pages in her memory. “I can keep you company for a bit, if you would like.”

“I wouldn’t mind, no, if you weren’t busy…” Summer Ruby shook her head. “What do you even do down here?”

“I remember, mostly. There is not much else to be done by one such as me.”

“Do you… do you remember seeing me before? This me, in this body.”

Hythlodaeus looked at her. “Hm, hm. I do. You were dying. You were dying, and trying to find Hades. I’m sorry, Emet-Selch. You killed him not long later, and then the both of you disappeared.”

She flinched at the bluntness of his words. “I’m sorry, Hythlo. I didn’t know who you were.”

The chiming of his voice was gentle, and stirred some old warmth in her heart. “You’ve no need to apologize, Percy. You never have. None of this was your fault.”

Summer Ruby sighed. “That’s easy for you to say.”

“I still mean it, regardless of the ease of the words’ passing.”

She looked up at the buildings. “Thank you, Hythlo.”

He tilted his head back, and she caught a glimpse of copper-red hair at the edge of his cloak. She smiled.

“What are you looking at?” the shade wondered.

“Nothing in particular. I was wondering where Emet-Selch might show up, should he safely return.”

“Oh.” Hythlodaeus cocked his head to the side. “He’s back home at our apartment.”

“What--so quickly? Are you sure?”

The shade chuckled again and nodded. “Emet-Selch, our dear Hades, he is a master of the Underworld. The remnants of his being would not yet have strayed far from this creation, so it would not take him long to find them.” Hythlodaeus half turned, pressing his hand over his mouth with a pensive hum. “He is thinking. He still thinks too much.”

“I have to see him.” Summer Ruby turned toward the residential district, but the shade of her new-old friend did not move to follow. “Won’t you come with me?”

“He does not want me to,” Hythlodaeus said, flashing a resigned smile. “That is all right. I am just glad I got to see that you were doing okay.”

She hugged the man tightly, though she half feared the shade might come apart in her arms. The shade’s arms were surprisingly strong when they folded around her to return the hug.

“Tell dear Hades to stop thinking so much. He needs to just relax now and then.”

“I will.” She stepped away and wiped at the tears in her eyes.

The shade smiled kindly at her. “Do not weep, Percy. We will see each other again one day. I am certain of it.” He reached out and touched her chin. “You still owe me another date.”

She blushed. “You’re horrible.”

Hythlodaeus grinned down at her. “Forever, my dear. Now, run along. Mustn’t keep him waiting.”

She ran back to the residential district, having to stop a few times to reorientate herself to her surroundings. Finally she found the right building. Summer Ruby hit a button on the glass and steel elevator, though she did not notice which. Neither did she notice what floor she disembarked onto, or the number on the apartment door that she stopped at, or the code she pressed into the door lock to open it. Those things were all inscribed on some old page of memory, and in her distraction she did not have to think to remember them.

“Hades?” 

The apartment was dark and nearly quiet. Nearly--she could hear the sound of snoring coming from one of the bedrooms. Summer Ruby went to the door and pushed it open.

The Ascian was sprawled out on the bed, stripped of his glamours and pretensions and other falsehoods. And his clothes, though that was less of a surprise to her than his bare forehead and long tangle of snowy white hair. A red mask rested on the bedside table, and next to that was a small concept crystal.

The man on the bed snorted softly, and she returned her attention to him. She reached out and touched his shoulder--it felt real enough, even though she knew he was only made of spirit at that point.

“Hades? Wake up, my dearest friend.”

His brow wrinkled and he groused, pressing his face into the pillows. She knelt next to the bed and gave him a gentle shake.

“I saw Hythlo. He said you’d come here.” She smiled. “Oh, and he said to stop thinking so much.”

Emet-Selch coughed a soft laugh. “Yes, of course he did, the prat.” He grimaced as he rolled onto his side. Summer Ruby glanced at his abdomen, and noticed the scarred starburst outlined there. A reminder of their past violence. She looked to his face. 

“So, how did it go?”

“I was… mostly successful in the retrieval of the remainder of my soul. As I expected, some of my aether has become too firmly embedded in this recreation to be safely extracted. But the rest was retrieved readily enough. Think of it as wearing a cloak with a handful of threads pulled from its weave.”

“So you still have everything? Your powers, your memories, your tempering…”

“Ah, from what I can tell, yes.” Emet-Selch scratched at his chin. “Though, I must admit that He is not as loud in my head as He was before. Still there, just quieter. Perhaps He is still sour over my prolonged exposure to your Light.”

She took in the tranquility of his expression. “Zodiark isn’t… mad?”

“If He is, He is remarkably good at hiding it,” Emet-Selch said in a deadpan. “But, no. I do not think so. Despite the destruction wrought in His name, Lord Zodiark is not so quick to anger with His…. most faithful.”

“I would think He would want to dunk you in darkness or something after spending months so close to the Warrior of Light.”

Emet-Selch gave a tired chuckle. “Oh, no, nothing like that.” He closed his eyes. “I am simply to remember that my mission remains.” 

“Oh. Right. The Rejoinings.” She worried her lower lip between her teeth for a moment. “Are you going to get back to work on that right away?”

“I don’t know. I will still have to speak with Elidibus before I return to my duties.” He opened his eyes and smiled at her. “I don’t feel in a particular rush at this very moment, if that is what concerns you.”

“Good. What will you do now, then?”

“Well, with your _blessing_ , I would return to the Source.” Emet-Selch propped himself up on his elbow. “Perhaps I could start with going to Ishgard and apologizing to your husband for threatening to kill him.”

Summer Ruby could not help but laugh at the suggestion. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea just yet. I don’t think Aymeric is very keen on seeing you again. Neither is Zenos, for that matter.”

“Well, then it is a good thing that they do not get any say in what I do.”

“Just remember your promise, Emet-Selch.”

“Yes, yes, no harm to the See or her people.”

She leaned down and kissed his bare forehead. “That’s right.”

Emet-Selch was silent as she settled her weight back and retrieved his mask from the bedside table. She marveled at the gravity of the thing--impossibly heavy with office and yet light as a thought at the same time. It was difficult for her to discern what it was crafted of--was it porcelain or painted wood or something else entirely?

“Aether,” Emet-Selch said. “Just my aether.”

She turned it over, tracing her nails lightly over the dark red surface and its arcing while lines. “I always hated this mask. You weren’t yourself when you were wearing it. It always made you look angry.”

He chuckled and carefully pulled the mask from her fingers. “‘Twas just the mask, sweetheart.”

“I know. I just--” She shook her head and laughed softly. “For some reason the distaste I felt when I first saw you put on that mask really stuck with my soul.”

“Yes, well. I cannot fault you for being unhappy with it not being aesthetically pleasing enough for you. Artist and all, mm?” Emet-Selch smiled and set the mask back on the table. His fingers brushed over the pale green crystal.

“That’s a concept crystal, right?”

“Indeed it is. A special one.” He picked up the crystal. “This is the last thing you left behind. Well, a memory of it.”

“I left behind a concept crystal?” That struck her as a strange thing to be carrying while possibly fleeing for her life from the Convocation. 

“That’s right. I’d thought it was meant for me, and kept its contents in my head for all these years. But, upon rattling around too long in Zenos’ mind, I realized that I was mistaken.”

“Mistaken how?”

Emet-Selch held out the crystal. “Take a look.” He gestured as she gently retrieved it from his grasp. “You ought to be able to at least see the contents. Just focus on that somewhat erratic gleam on the surface plane, and you should be able to see it in your head.”

She did as she was told, holding the concept crystal in her palm and concentrating. An image did indeed flicker into her mind’s eye-- “Fine silver vines and delicate little golden flowers.” Summer Ruby gasped. “I’ve seen this before! It was in a memory Zenos showed me.” She turned the crystal in her fingers, but couldn’t make out anything else. “I wonder… Zenos mentioned that there used to be flowers like that in the Imperial palace’s greenhouse.”

“They’re still there, most likely,” Emet-Selch said. “My doing, of course. As I said, I kept the concept with me all these years, and added the flowers to the gardens.”

“Ah, because you thought they were Percy’s…”

Emet-Selch nodded.

“I suppose they were, in a fashion,” she said. “From what I’ve gathered, Rigel only ever made the single copy of the concept for the flowers, and gave it to me.”

The Ascian made a noise of surprise. “ _Rigel_ made the flowers?”

“That’s right. He was… he was very talented with sculpting little details like that.”

“To look at the boy now, I would never have guessed.” He smiled as she pressed the crystal back into his hands.

“Yes, well, you learn all sorts of things about people once you stop trying to kill them.”

Emet-Selch pressed the concept crystal to his breast, and it disappeared in a shimmer of aether. “I suppose that is true. I hope you do not object to me keeping the crystal with me.”

“No. It’s yours now, Hades.”

For a moment he looked thoughtful. Then: “I will find a way to make those flowers grow in Ishgard. So you can enjoy them again. Perhaps I can see about having a greenhouse built.” He hummed. “There is so much the Ishgardians could stand to learn about living in the cold.”

Summer Ruby couldn’t disagree with that. 

Emet-Selch sat up and ran his fingers through his long white hair. The sight of it alone was enough to stir more memories to the surface. She smiled. Something wistful flashed onto his face before it was replaced with a smile.

“I wish to return to the Source with you,” said Emet-Selch. He looked down at his hands. “That is, if you would have me.”

“Well, I don’t really have any power to force you to stay on the First,” she said. In truth, she was not certain that she would force him to, were that in her capabilities. She knew to do so would only entrench him in lonely suffering once more. However, there was still the issue of those on the Source who would not be thrilled to see the Ascian return.

“But?”

Summer Ruby blinked and looked at him. “But, surely you must realize that Aymeric and Zenos will be less than ecstatic for your return.”

Emet-Selch snorted. “Believe me, I am more than used to people being unhappy to see me.”

“Yes, but--” She paused to settle her thoughts. “They will both be with me in Ishgard. And so you will have to be in Ishgard as well, when you want to see me.”

“I am aware.”

“Then, what are your plans?”

He shrugged. “I haven’t any. At least, none in the ‘what to do about my best friend’s angry lovers’ department. I still have plenty in other areas.”

She considered his meaning. “You still intend to work on the Rejoinings.”

“Of course I do.” Emet-Selch twisted a lock of white hair around his thin fingers. “Or did you fail to notice that the world is not yet whole, my Matrisiram? I thought you were more observant?”

Summer Ruby lightly swatted his arm. “You arse.”

He smiled. “Let us not worry about the Rejoining for the moment.” Emet-Selch clasped one of her dark hands between his own. “I would assure you that I will do my best not to cause trouble in Ishgard. In fact, I can help. I don’t know how yet, exactly, as I need to do a more thorough study on the current situation in the Holy See, but… For your sake. For this flimsy mortal existence you would protect. I will find a way to help.”

“Why?”

Another shrug of his narrow shoulders. “Because you are my dearest friend and I love you and it would ease your way.” He squeezed her hand. “No ulterior motives, I promise you.”

“Well.” She sighed and gently freed her hand from his grasp. “I believe you, but the Lord Commander will still need convincing.”

“Naturally. I would expect nothing less from a man so concerned with the well-being of both his family and his country.”

She scanned his face, wondering if he was being sarcastic, but his expression was placid enough to indicate sincerity. Emet-Selch flopped back into the pillows and sighed.

“Of course, he will protest my presence in Ishgard, just as I am certain that he protested little Zenos staying there as well.”

“He tried to have Zenos executed when I admitted to our affair. I think you only wiggled off the hook because you were dead at the time.”

He exhaled in a long sigh. “I do seem to recall you mentioning that to-do.” Emet-Selch closed his eyes and continued in a lecturing tone. “It is important to remember, no matter what you do, that ‘good’ and ‘bad’ are all relative positions. It all depends on which side of the blade you are on.”

Summer Ruby rested her chin on the edge of the mattress. “That’s what bad men usually say to justify their actions, Emet-Selch.”

His hand reached and pressed between her ears. “I know. That doesn’t make it less true.” He scratched lightly at her scalp. “I don’t quite feel up to moving just yet, my dear. Won’t you rest with me for a little while?” The Ascian did nothing to mask the hopeful cast to his voice. “This is far more comfortable than a bench.”

“For a little while.”

When she roused it was to the faint music of Emet-Selch snoring. His face was pressed into her neck, and his arms were thrown loosely around her. She puzzled over the solidity of his spirit for a few minutes before rousing him.

“We should go for a little walk before leaving,” she said. “I left my pack down at that bench this morning.” Emet-Selch raised his right hand, but she grabbed at it. “Come on, don’t ruin everything with your magic. Walk with me.”

He sighed dramatically before heaving himself up into a seated position. “If you don’t use your magic when you have it, darling, then what’s the point of having it?”

She smiled. “It’s not an excuse to be lazy.”

He pouted. “It is if I want it to be.”

Regardless of protests, a few minutes later Summer Ruby managed to coax her companion out of bed. He did succeed in convincing her to let him just snap them down to the ground level, muttering something about the elevator making him uneasy.

It was growing late in the day, judging by the darkness beginning to seep in from overhead. The shades were fewer in number now, and many of them were walking in quiet pairs that paid no heed to the living. Emet-Selch had not changed his appearance yet, still barefoot and garbed in plain black robes.

“Do you think you will continue coming to the First?” Emet-Selch wondered.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “While I’m sure that the Exarch and others on this star could easily continue finding tasks for me to complete until I draw my final breath, I feel little compulsion to continue returning to do those things. They will find their own heroes. I am needed back on the Source.”

“Indeed you are.” The Ascian made a thoughtful noise. “I am not certain what Elidibus’ plans for the First are now. I will have to consult with him.”

“If you just go and cause another Calamity with the First, then what was the point of my suffering?” Summer Ruby frowned.

“Sometimes there is no point to the suffering, my dear,” said Emet-Selch. “I know that from personal experience. But, if you must have something, I would say that your suffering helped guide you toward your awakening. It guided you back to me.”

She sighed, his words offering little comfort. “I suppose that’s one way of viewing things.”

“Besides, a Calamity doesn’t just happen with a snap. I mean, it could, but the amount of aether that would take would rip me apart. A Calamity takes planning and counter-planning and work between forces in multiple locations. It is an art. Like I said, I know not what Elidibus plans to do with the First, now. There are other shards that work has already been begun on, to keep our subordinates busy.”

Summer Ruby was contemplating the Ascian’s words, when Emet-Selch let out a soft hiss and disappeared in a panicked flutter of aether.

“Ah, there you are. I worried that I was going to walk myself ragged trying to locate you.”

She startled and turned to see a familiar figure approaching.

“Y’shtola,” she said. “It is good to see you, but--what are you doing down here?”

“I would ask you the same question, Summer.”

“I was just visiting.”

“The Exarch said as much.” The miqo’te sighed and crossed her arms. Summer Ruby thought she looked a little pale. And then she realized:

“Ah. You’re still here. On the First.”

“I am,” Y’shtola said. Summer Ruby could not quite pinpoint if there was amusement or irritation in the younger woman’s voice. Perhaps both. “Did you forget about me?”

“No, not exactly,” she said. She considered her answer. The things she had been through over the last few months were truly none of the Scion’s concern. “I’ve been very busy on the Source, that’s all. And the Scions haven’t been in contact enough to remind me…” When Y’shtola just gave her the usual unimpressed stare, Summer Ruby said: “Are you ready to go back to the Source?”

“As much as I will miss the Night’s Blessed, yes,” the miqo’te said. “I have grown tired of the fainting spells and weakness that have begun due to the protracted separation from my body.”

“I understand.” Summer Ruby heard the faint shuffling of feet on the paving stones behind her, but did not turn to look. She was fairly certain it was Emet-Selch eavesdropping.

“I have already charged a crystal for you to take back across the rift. You just have to get it from the Exarch.”

She blinked. “The Exarch?”

“Yes.” Y’shtola’s brows drew together as she watched the Warrior of Light. “Did it not cross your mind to wonder how I knew to find you down here?”

“Oh. No, I suppose not.” Summer Ruby hoped that the Scion did not pay too much attention to any of the shades--surely she knew what Emet-Selch’s aether looked like. 

Y’shtola chuckled. “I asked the Exarch some weeks ago to alert me whenever you came to the First, so that I could arrange my homeward voyage.”

“Oh. Of course. That makes sense.”

“I didn’t expect it to be more than a moon before your next visit,” Y’shtola said. “You must have been very busy.”

Summer Ruby forced a sheepish smile onto her face. “Oh, you know me. Always getting into trouble.” She made a show of looking up at the darkening sky. “I should probably get back to the Crystarium soon. I think I promised to have tea with the Exarch before I left.”

“Good. I will return to the Crystarium on my own and wait for you there.” She smirked. “Don’t wait too long, Summer, we don’t need to keep the Exarch up too late beyond his bedtime.”

Summer Ruby smiled and nodded. “Very well. I will finish up down here and be on my way.”

She watched as Y’shtola accessed the leylines and teleported away. Behind her, she heard a fresh shuffling of footsteps, and then the warm press of Emet-Selch’s aether against her back.

“Do you think she saw me?”

“I don’t know, Emet-Selch, were you dancing behind me? I could hear you moving around.”

He chuckled and kissed at her shoulder before stepping away. “Of course not. I was doing my best to look inconspicuous. I think it worked. Your Scion friend was a bit overly busy being suspicious of your behavior.”

“Indeed,” a cold voice said behind them. “One can only wonder what the Warrior of Light is doing in the depths of the abyss at this hour of the day.”

They both froze, and then turned to face the speaker. Any hope that Y’shtola might have returned was quickly dashed at the sight of a man wearing a red mask and white robes.

Emet-Selch’s voice cracked as he croaked out a greeting.

“ _Elidibus!_ ”


	40. Matrisiram

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _This chapter was plotted out before patch 5.3 (finally) dropped, and I decided not to change Elidibus' functions in the story._
> 
> Ahh Chapter 40! This .... very weird ride is nearly over.

There was a long moment of silence as one Ascian regarded the other. It was Emet-Selch who yielded first, giving an irritated cough and looking at the ground.

“Emet-Selch. And here I thought you had yielded to Oblivion’s grasp,” the white robed Ascian murmured. “All the while, you had merely succumbed to your _nostalgia_.”

Emet-Selch flashed him a cheeky grin. “Would you expect aught less from me, old friend?”

Elidibus sighed. “In truth? No, you have always had a flair for the dramatic.”

“I believe you will find me as whole and hale as could be hoped, given the circumstances.”

A soft grunt. “I suppose I was too hasty to consider you a lost cause.” He frowned. “But, the Warrior of Light?”

“What better place to hide from your inevitable ire than the most obvious place to look?” Emet-Selch gestured at Summer Ruby. “I’ve kept cozy within her for much of the last few months.”

Now the Emissary looked up at the Warrior of Light. Summer Ruby felt uncomfortable under his scrutiny--there was just something about the man that made her uneasy, regardless of whether he was presenting as himself or pretending to be someone else. He had been chilling while pretending to be Zenos--but his lack of enthusiasm to see her had been all she had needed to realize he was not the prince. No, Elidibus had merely wanted her dead.

“A strange choice of hiding place,” said Elidibus. “Within the bindings of the one who struck you down.”

“Who better? Surely you must recognize the woman standing before you,” Emet-Selch said. He fluttered his hand at Summer Ruby while looking to Elidibus. The man in white frowned.

“Of course I do. She is the Warrior of Light--she positively reeks with Hydaelyn’s blessing.” He paused. “Though, when last we met on the Source I do believe you were a Roegadyn…” Elidibus looked at Emet-Selch. “Why do you conspire with her?”

“Conspire?” He heaved a sigh. “Are you daft? Did you ever actually _look_ at her soul during your previous encounters on the Source?”

“I had no reason to. She is perhaps the most persistent thorn I’ve had to prick my side in centuries. Our enemy.”

“Ene--” Emet-Selch made a frustrated noise. “Just look at her, you woolgathering old fool! All the time plotting and planning and worrying about things, and you never even thought to look at the soul of the person we wanted dead more than anyone else.” He crossed his arms. “Honestly, it was the first thing I did. You’re an embarrassment.”

She whispered at him. “Emet-Selch, are you trying to get him riled up?”

The corner of his mouth pulled up. “Maybe a little. ‘Tis always been a pastime of mine.”

“You see souls better than you see the faces of people,” Elidibus muttered. All the same, he bowed his head slightly and pressed his middle and fore-fingers between the eye holes on his mask. After a long moment of stillness the Emissary’s body jerked, and he lowered his hand. “Is this--” Elidibus looked at Emet-Selch. “Is this the truth that I am seeing, or are you playing some sort of distasteful trick?”

“I asked my own eyes a similar question when I first gazed upon her soul some months ago.” Emet-Selch smiled warmly at her. “But, I am happy to say that she is indeed who she looks like.”

“Happy?” Elidibus echoed, doubtful. “She betrayed us. You should have struck her down for that alone, not to mention for her participation in the deaths of several of our associates.”

“I am well aware of the fact. However, I do not care, and I refuse to bring any further harm to her.” Emet-Selch crossed his arms again and beset Elidibus with a determined pout. “She is no flimsy fragment that needs to be elevated to her position, Elidibus. She is already remembering on her own. Well, alone but for some assistance on my part.”

“So you say.”

Despite the fact that she stood nearly a fulm taller than the man, Summer Ruby could not shake the sensation that Elidibus was looking down at her as he took a step closer. He stared at her, and she remained frozen in place. What would he do to her? If he were to attack her now, she would not be able to do anything to defend herself, and she was uncertain that Emet-Selch was in a stable enough state to be able to come to her aid.

“No feeble shard indeed.” Elidibus’ words were spoken low, barely audible but for her sensitive hearing. “Seven? No, eight times rejoined. Nine parts of the whole. Nigh on two-thirds of what once was. No wonder she has been so dangerous to our peers.” He half turned away to look at Emet-Selch. “And yet I mistook her as naught but another common whelp of the Source.”

“Her soul was dormant. Without her memories, it is easier for the unskilled to overlook such things,” said Emet-Selch. 

“Why did you not return to me with this knowledge when you realized the truth?”

“I didn’t have time,” he groused. “I was busy trying to salvage our work here on the First.”

“An excuse, all the same.”

Emet-Selch said nothing and looked instead at Summer Ruby.

“Considering that we fought to the death, I don’t think he did it to protect me,” she said.

Elidibus stared at the other Ascian for a long moment, before returning his gaze to Summer Ruby. He stared at her just as long before speaking. As often before with Emet-Selch, she could not fathom what the man might be thinking, for who could know or understand the thoughts of so ancient a being? She tried not to be intimidated by their combined stares.

Her memories kicked and clawed at her thoughts for attention. _This is why you protested, why you walked out. He would be the first sacrifice of millions, cut down on the altar to become the heart of Zodiark. You couldn’t just let them do this, he was too important, he was--_

“As easy as it would be to strike you down in my irritation, that would be too hypocritical of me to stand. You are incomplete, and cannot be held as criminal for violence perpetrated against those who should have been your allies. Not by me, at the least.” He frowned. “Though, I must admit some level of disappointment in the knowledge that, once the Great Rejoining has occurred, there are friends of mine that I will never see again. But, to retaliate in their honor would reduce the number even further.”

Summer Ruby thought of Lahabrea and the other Ascians she had seen put to the sword. “They were all confident in both their cause and capability. They threw themselves at me, confident that _they_ would be the one to finally stop the Warrior of Light. And I cut them down, because that is what I had been directed to do.”

“She was not the one who slew Lahabrea,” Emet-Selch said with a hint of urgency. “Nor was she allies with the one who did. If aught, he forged his own demise. She merely bore witness.”

Elidibus frowned. “Despite that, his seat will be impossible to refill until after the Rejoining. Much as I had thought the same of you.”

Emet-Selch spoke in a coy tone: “Are you gladdened for my return, or vexed? In truth, I cannot tell.”

“I would still have words with you in private, regarding some of your actions as Solus zos Galvus.” For a moment the rigidity in his form dropped. “You sired a _truly_ irritating line of men, Emet-Selch.”

“You say that as though it were not part of my plan.”

The subtle acerbity returned to Elidibus’ demeanor as he returned his attention to Summer Ruby. “Now then. How to handle our defector.”

She tried not to bristle at his words, but was startled out of her defenses by Emet-Selch. “Please, Elidibus. Our Lord is one of salvation, not retribution. Show her some mercy.” He pushed through any anticipated rebuttal. “She showed _me_ mercy. Yes, she slew me but I forced her hand. And I--I foisted myself upon her, and she still brought me back here so that I might become whole again.”

Elidibus whispered: “Your council has been heard, Emet-Selch.” He took a few steps closer to Summer Ruby, until he stood near enough that he could have struck her, had that been his inclination. She could sense the vibrancy of his aether, similar to that of Emet-Selch, but cast with some unknowable shadow. When Elidibus spoke, his voice was even and carefully measured.

“I am not sure what I should call you now. Matrisiram, when you turned your back on us? Persephone, the lost object of Emet-Selch’s affections? Or would you perhaps prefer something from a mortal guise?”

She swallowed and felt compelled to defend herself against Elidibus’ sniping. “My name is Summer Ruby de Borel. But I have been called many things in the last few years. Warrior of Light, Bringer of Light, Warrior of Darkness. Hero and savior of the realms, of Eorzea, of the Source, of the First. Lady. Viscountess. Mother. Wife. Emet-Selch calls me ‘Percy’ at times, and Zenos calls me ‘Aesta’.” She shook her head. “But that matters for naught. A man can look upon a thing and not know what it is called, and give it a name or a title, but it does not change the thing. It just anchors it into place in the mind. So you can call me whatever you would like, Elidibus, and it will not change who I am.”

Another moment of silence from the Ascian, and then a warm smile sprang to his face. It was startling--the sort of unabashed emotion in an Ascian that she had only come to expect from Emet-Selch. “Ever the stickler for details. It is so very good to hear you speak again after so long, Matrisiram.”

“I--” She hesitated, still off-put by his smile. “That is what you would call me?”

“Of course. That is who you are, to my memory, and to my sight.” Elidibus sighed softly, the smile fading. “Would that we had taken better heed of your words in the beginning. We might have had more time to prepare.”

She could not yet remember what they were referring to, and frowned. “I don’t recall.”

“You were the first to realize that something was amiss with the fabric of things. The one who compiled all the reports of conjurings going wrong, and of disturbances recorded in places outside of Amaurot proper. I remember--you traveled all the way to the southern spires to confirm the stories. And yet, we did not listen.”

“Of course she was the one to notice,” cut in Emet-Selch, puffing up slightly on her behalf. “She was the best at what she did.”

“Yes, yes,” Elidibus said, tone patient, the smile flickering briefly again to his face. 

“Forgive my confusion,” Summer Ruby said. “But not but a moment ago I felt threatened by your presence. Why are you smiling at me?”

“Because--” The pitch of his voice rose and cracked audibly. He cleared his throat. Emet-Selch touched a gloved hand to his arm, and Elidibus lowered his gaze to the ground. “It is as has been said. I suppose that, despite what has passed between we Ascians and you Warrior of Light, I am still glad to find that you have begun to awaken.”

“Commit the smile to memory, Percy, you won’t see it very often,” said Emet-Selch, but he was gently smiling as well.

“Many things fade with time in a mind of the undying,” Elidibus said. “Anger, fear, regret. But some do not.” He cast his gaze to Emet-Selch. “Sorrow only deepens. And yet--” Now he looked to her. “It takes so very little joy to dry up that well. I cannot recall the last time I felt his heart in such a gladdened state. Perhaps not since our first successful Ardor.”

Emet-Selch huffed. “You make me sound like a grouchy old maid.”

She smiled. “You do have your moments.”

He sneered cheerfully at Elidibus. “Ah, now I'm being ganged up on. ‘Tis almost like Lahabrea has returned.”

“Tell me something, Elidibus,” Summer Ruby said. “What are you doing here on the First? Plotting to conclude the Rejoining without Emet-Selch?”

“Not at the moment, no. Unfortunately things have been tipped out of position for such a feat both here and on the Source. I had actually been out on the Ninth, getting a bit of work done there. But I heard the call, felt the familiar pull of a like soul on the First and came to investigate. Imagine my surprise when I dipped beneath the waves and discovered my dead Architect wandering hand-in-hand with our long lost Keeper of the Ways. ‘Twas enough to make me doubt my senses.”

“So you aren’t here to destroy what remains of the First?”

Elidibus’ tone was cool: “As I said, not at the moment. All things in their own time.”

She didn’t like that wording. “But, you are still working toward future Rejoinings. Future Calamities for the Source.”

“Of course,” Elidibus said. “Though I may have thought myself the last of the Paragons, my work was far from finished, and so I continued.”

“Then, the Ninth is still proceeding apace?” Emet-Selch said.

“Indeed. The Ninth and the Fourth are still progressing as well as I had hoped. Things on the Source are, naturally, a bit more of a challenge to wrangle into place, especially as certain parties keep meddling in my business.” He cut his eyes in her direction, and Summer Ruby felt her cheeks flush.

“What do you want me to do, stop trying to prevent you from causing more Calamities?”

“Precisely,” Elidibus said. “That would be ever so helpful, Matrisiram.”

“Not going to happen.”

He sighed. “I thought as much.”

She crossed her arms. “You could always just kill me now. Get rid of any potential problems I might cause.”

“Percy!” Emet-Selch cried out, plainly distressed at her suggestion. Elidibus looked at him for a moment. Something close to a smirk pinched his lips.

“Clearly I cannot do that. Emet-Selch would be useless until your next incarnation were I to remove you now, and that is a lapse in productivity we can ill afford. All I can try to do now is gain your cooperation.” He held out a gloved hand. “Your you, that soul, it belongs on our side. It always has. Your past misdeeds could be so readily pardoned were you to join us now.”

“No,” Summer Ruby said with a light shake of her head. “I am my own side, now. If you cannot accept that, then you will have to find a new Matrisiram for your schemes.” This earned her a sigh from Elidibus.

“And whose side are you on, Emet-Selch?” asked the Emissary. The other Ascian chuckled.

“Why, I am on our side, of course. But I will not turn my part of our side against hers.” He waved a hand. “Not even if she causes trouble.”

An irritated noise escaped Elidibus. “Sometimes I think you enjoy being difficult.”

“Possibly.”

Summer Ruby watched as the man in white folded his arms over his chest and turned away. He started to walk from them, and she wondered if perhaps the conversation was at an end. Emet-Selch shifted closer to her side, and when she looked down at him he tapped a pointer finger on his brow. The Emissary was thinking, then. She shrugged, and Emet-Selch let out a soft laugh. He rose up on his toes and pressed his lips to her cheek.

“I won’t let him do anything to you,” whispered Emet-Selch.

“Do you think you’ll need to stop him?”

“Maybe not now. Maybe later. I don’t know what he’s thinking. His thoughts have long been a mystery to me.”

They watched as Elidibus eventually came to a stop beneath a lilac-leafed tree. Summer Ruby could see the red lines of his mask in profile as he tilted his head back to observe the foliage. Emet-Selch was warm against her arm, and a comfort even though he was just a bodiless spirit.

Eventually, Elidibus returned to where they stood. His arms hung loose at his sides now, though she could see the fingers of his right hand curl into a ball before relaxing.

“This is not what I was expecting when I sensed your soul, Emet-Selch.” Elidibus spoke slowly, as though he had not completed his thoughts while underneath the violet tree. He tipped his head back to look at Summer Ruby. “You have yet to master your Echo. But, if you are regaining your memories, then perhaps you will be able to soon enough.”

There was an ominous hint to his words that made her uneasy. “Soon enough for what?”

Elidibus just smiled.

“Oh, please, and you call _me_ dramatic.” Emet-Selch scoffed loudly. He touched Summer Ruby’s arm. “He only means that should you regain control of your Echo, you will be more easily able to survive the rigors of the future Ardors.”

“The more of your soul that is gathered, the easier such a task will be,” Elidibus said. “The fruit of another Ardor, perhaps two, ought to be sufficient.”

Summer Ruby grimaced and shook her head. “I don’t want others to die, just to increase my own power.” A stray thought occurred to her: _That is how you have always increased your power. You are a warrior._

“They will come to pass.” He scratched idly at his white sleeve with a gilded claw, a thoughtful pinch to his lips. “That is, of course, assuming naught occurs to bar our path.”

She swallowed. “I am the Warrior of Light. I have to be. I cannot stray from that path--She gave me Her blessings so that I might stop your plans.” Summer Ruby thought of how tired of her duties she had become by the time she had returned from the First. The weariness was still there, yes, but the drive to protect remained as powerful as ever. She knew she would fight to continue to protect her family and the people of Ishgard regardless of any divinely gifted powers. “Besides, I did not ask for Hydaelyn’s blessing. I’ve never taken any direct orders from Her.”

“Not even from Her blonde-haired mouthpiece?”

She thought of Minfilia and Ryne. “I suppose I never considered those to be direct orders. More a guiding hand.”

“It would likely be dangerous to draw Her ire, regardless of Her own dwindling powers,” Emet-Selch said. “She is already proven to be dangerous, who knows what harm might come to one who forsakes Her blessing?”

“To stand in front of the brightest of Light is to cast the darkest of shadows,” Elidibus said. His gloved fingertips traced at the bottom edge of his mask. “It would be dangerous, but…”

“What are you considering, Elidibus?” Emet-Selch shifted his weight forward, as though trying to deflect the other man’s attentions from the Warrior of Light. “I told you, I won’t stand for anyone to hurt her.”

“I know what you said.” Elidibus looked up at Summer Ruby. “Matrisiram.”

She did not like the gravity of his tone. “Yes?”

He was silent for a moment, and then said: “I would make for you an offer. Despite your violence against our cause, and our people, I would still offer you back your position, should you accept it.”

Summer Ruby blinked. “You never refilled the position, in the millennia that have followed?”

“No,” he said flatly. “Emet-Selch was staunchly opposed to the idea.”

“I can’t--I don’t think I can accept your offer, Elidibus,” she said. “I’ve told you. I cannot join in destroying this world, or any other.”

“Ah, but you do without meaning to.” He paused, chin lowering as he murmured in a pensive tone. “The Convocation--we were, _are_ the stewards of our star. Its guardians. As the Warrior of Light, would you not say that is also your role?”

She hesitated. “Yes, in a fashion, though I would also say you are manipulating the truth to fit your needs.”

“That’s what he does,” Emet-Selch cut in under his breath. She heard a tired huff from Elidibus, but no other retort.

“It is what it is,” Elidibus said. “If you are careful, your current incarnation will be your last, Warrior of Light. You would be my first choice for Matrisiram after the world is restored. Offering you the position now is simply an acknowledgement of the fact.”

“And if I refuse?”

Emet-Selch piped in again, his tone somewhat sarcastic. “Seeing as you abandoned your post without properly resigning, you would still have to fill out a great deal of paperwork. Probably seven or eight times over to account for your various incarnations.”

Elidibus gave a tired sigh. “Nothing would happen. You already know that as the Warrior of Light you stand in opposition to the will of our god. I would simply have you continue being a servant of the Star itself, not of Zodiark.”

He was definitely manipulating his phrasing to make the offering more favorable, but she could not help but listen. “And were I to agree to such a charge--” Summer Ruby paused, trying to think of the last time she was given her own choice in such a great duty. It was beyond her reckoning. “If I were, are you going to try to have me tempered by Zodiark?”

“You ask a complicated but fair question, but the simple answer is ‘no’.” Elidibus rested his hand over his heart. “The Convocation served the Star for untold millennia before we ever called Zodiark into being. I am asking you to return to the Convocation--not to become an Ascian.” He lowered his hand. “Besides, devotion to our god should be freely given, and you chose not to serve him long ago. You should not be forced to choose again, or pushed to kneel without consent.” He sighed. “Additionally, while you are not _tempered_ by Hydaelyn, you are so tainted by her Light that were we to try to expunge you of Her blessing your soul might again be torn to pieces.”

Summer Ruby frowned. At her side, Emet-Selch rested a hand on her hip, and she felt the friendly warmth of his aether. “He just wants you to continue being you, Percy.” His hand moved to grasp hers. “The fractured frail shadows of our people here on the Source still need protection. Do that, and we will mind the balance.”

“I thought you viewed the sundered peoples to be loathsome,” she said. “Feeble, frail, unfit to live. All of that.”

His nose wrinkled. “I _do_ , but they must still be protected. Keep them coddled and under the illusion of safety, and they will be much more malleable when you need them to be.”

“So you would keep me as shepherd to your sacrificial sheep.” She frowned at her friend, and he made an uncomfortable noise.

“I am certain he would have found a more eloquent way to phrase things, given the time,” Elidibus said. “All the same, you will not be asked to bring the people to harm. We would ask you to keep us apprised on the current situation on the Source, and we would keep you informed of our plans. With, of course, the understanding that knowledge of our plans is private and intended only for members of the Convocation.”

Emet-Selch added in a cheerful tone: “You would be part of the team again. Wouldn’t that be lovely? I’d even come and help you if you ran into some kind of amazingly bad situation that you and little Zenos _and_ your husband couldn’t help you with.” He flashed his teeth as he smiled, and she could not help but laugh.

“That would be a truly calamitous situation, wouldn’t it?” She pursed her lips in thought. “There is, of course, some chance that Hydaelyn will not see my actions as being in line with her wishes. But then, what few times I have heard her wishes expressed, I wasn’t really aware that she was a _primal_ …” Summer Ruby sighed and shook her head. “Those back on the Source would think me mad for even considering your offer.”

“Then, simply do not tell them. It is not entirely their business who you consort with when they are not around.”

“I am fairly certain that they might notice something is afoot when I do not raise a hand to stop whatever current scheme you have in motion.” 

“It will require some balance,” Elidibus said. “But, I am confident that you will be able to manage it. After all, you have survived thus far.”

Summer Ruby thought. Though entanglement with the enemy would cause obvious problems with the Scions and the Eorzean Alliance, it would be useful to have easier access to knowledge of whatever the Ascians were up to. And if it might reduce the odds of the Ascians being aggressive against she and those closest to her, all the better…

“If I agree to become the Matrisiram, what will I have to do? My duties, I mean?” She looked to Emet-Selch, who shrugged and gestured at the other Ascian.

“Continue your duties as Warrior of Light on the Source,” Elidibus said. “Up to the point of where what is expected of you might conflict with the plans of the Convocation. Keep your eyes and ears open for anything that might be relevant to our interests. Keep us informed, and we will keep you informed in turn.”

“What happens when there is a conflict of interests?”

He smiled thinly. “We will worry about that when the situations arise. Not every Ardor is completed by a primal bursting forth from a moon. Some will be more subtle, mere disruptions in the flow of the natural order. Floods and flame and the like. But, if more diplomacy is needed, then we will engage in it.”

Summer Ruby considered what she knew of previous Calamities. Most _had_ simply seemed to be large-scale natural disasters, with no obvious origin or preventable cause. If she were to know that a Calamity was coming, she might be able to better protect people from the hazards.

“Is that all?”

“For now. Being so limited in our numbers has forced some adaptability over time. Emet-Selch will, of course, remain your contact. He was your partner all those years ago, and would remain so, now. Unless you have some objection to that arrangement.”

Emet-Selch huffed. “Why would she object to that?”

“You do have a tendency to doze off,” Elidibus said dryly.

“He always has,” Summer Ruby said. She flashed a fond smile at the Ascian in question. Emet-Selch rubbed his cheek and looked away. “But, we have come to an understanding, and I would accept him as my contact on the Source.”

“Very well.” She could feel Elidibus’ gaze through his mask. “Truthfully, there is nothing more to the matter right now. Despite how it might be viewed from a mortal’s point of view, the arranging of Ardors is a slow, painstaking process.”

She thought of Emet-Selch’s vitriolic ranting when they had first met in the Crystarium. “So I’ve heard.”

Elidibus held out his hands. “All you need do is accept your mark of office once more.”

Summer Ruby swallowed, and then nodded.

He gestured at the other Ascian. “Emet-Selch, if you would.”

Emet-Selch lifted his free hand to his forehead, and his mask appeared. “It would be my honor.” He pulled his fingers from hers, and she winced as he drew a line of aether from her palm. A trail of brilliant blue curled around his fingers for a moment before he snapped. A mask appeared in his hand, and Summer Ruby was struck by a warm sense of familiarity when she looked at the thing resting between his outstretched fingers. It was a simple black mask, the covering for the nose extending to a slightly hooked point and resembling a beak, and a precise red streak passing vertically over each blackened eye hole. She had seen it before in her dreams--no, she knew she had worn it before, an endless lifetime ago.

“We should have known you would be an outlier when you chose to invert the traditional colors of your station,” Elidibus said, without ire. “Seeing as you cannot freely roam about wearing the mark of your people’s ‘enemy’, Emet-Selch will be able to keep it in storage for you.”

“Happily,” Emet-Selch said, lips curled in a fond smile. He held the mask out to her. 

“On behalf of the Convocation, I bid you a happy homecoming.” Elidibus’ voice was flat, but a faint smile still lingered on the visible half of his face. “Matrisiram, Keeper of the Ways.”

The mask felt strange in her hands. It was though she clutched an extension of herself--which she supposed it was, considering that Emet-Selch had crafted it from her own aether. She felt a bit of his aether mixed in and supporting hers. Summer Ruby lifted the mask to her face. Aside from a faint tingle of aether on her forehead, she felt nothing. Looking out through the eye holes, the world looked the same.

“Very good,” Elidibus said.

She quickly lowered the mask from her face, feeling a touch embarrassed by their scrutiny. “Thank you.” She handed the mask back to Emet-Selch and watched as it disappeared in a twist of aether. “What would have done had I said no to your invitation?”

“For now? Nothing. ‘Tis simple to have Emet-Selch keep you under observation.”

“Oh. Of course.”

Elidibus chuckled. “Would you have preferred a fight?”

“No!” She shook her head. “I mean--I know my reputation. Famed Ascian-slayer and all that. But it has rarely ever been my immediate inclination to kill my enemies without hearing them out first.” There were, of course, always the rare instances where she met someone with a face that begged for punching, but the Ascian did not need to know that. 

“Mm. Always one for the details.” 

“Ah. It is nice to see that cooperation won out in the end,” chirped Emet-Selch cheerfully. “Though, I suppose it is easier to reach such a state when your Scions are not hissing in your ear.”

“They meant well.”

“And so do we.” Emet-Selch removed his mask, and it dissipated into aether. Summer Ruby thought of his words, of the reason why she had agreed to Elidibus’ offer. To protect those she cared about on the Source. Aymeric and Merle and Zenos and, yes, even the Scions. She was doing this because she wanted them to live as long and happy as possible. A thought pricked at her mind.

“Before you depart, might I make a request?”

Elidibus nodded. “You may, though I cannot guarantee that we can honor it.”

“Delay the Great Rejoining.”

Surprise crept into his voice. “I beg your pardon?”

“I mean--I don’t know how soon you intend for it to occur. I know that several Calamities must still happen before you get to that point.” She again thought of her family and friends back on the Source. “But I must admit that I am still attached to my mortal life. I have a husband and a child and others I care about, and I do not know how well I can perform my duties if I am constantly worried that you are working to destroy them.”

“I see.” He scratched lightly at his chin with a claw. “It will still take some time for the remaining Ardors, but… what sort of time-frame were you looking for, Matrisiram?”

“Give me a century,” she said. A hundred years would likely be enough time for most of those who she cared for and loved to grow old and pass away. “It is a miserable number to pull from the air, but it should be sufficient.”

“A century…” Elidibus’ claw rested thoughtfully along the line of his jaw as he turned his face toward the other Ascian. 

Emet-Selch gazed down at the Emissary. “A century. What is a century to us, to our plans? ‘Tis naught but a tired moment. But to them, a century is a lifetime.”

“The time does not have to go to waste,” Elidibus conceded. “We still have much work to do on the remaining shards.” He lowered his hand and looked up at Summer Ruby. “Very well, you will have your hundred years.”

“Thank you, Elidibus.”

He nodded. “Have you any other questions or requests?”

“No, sir. Not right now.”

Elidibus smoothed his hands down the front of his robes. “Very well, then. This turned out to be a more rewarding journey into the ocean than I had anticipated.” His lips curved into a reserved smile. “Not one, but two of the assembly returned to me.” He tucked an arm against his chest and bent in a half-bow. “Matrisiram, I am glad to have found you so amenable.”

Summer Ruby swallowed back a laugh. “Well, Elidibus, thank you for not attacking me outright.”

“Indeed. It would have been wasteful of me.” He rose and looked at Emet-Selch. “I will be returning to the Ninth to continue my observations. You may have… a month, Emet-Selch, to get yourself situated on the Source. Try not to start another empire, if you could. I will be looking for you at the usual location in a month, to discuss our plans for the next few decades.”

Emet-Selch chuckled.. “A whole month? That’s quite the generous holiday, Elidibus. I can get into all sorts of trouble from one moon to the next.”

“I’ll make sure he behaves,” Summer Ruby said.

After another polite bow, Elidibus excused himself and departed through a portal. Summer Ruby was left standing at Emet-Selch’s side.

“Well then,” she said. “That was not what I expected.”

“Indeed. Though, it saved me the trouble of having to track him down.”

Summer Ruby lightly swatted his arm. “So, what now?”

“I believe you said something about tea? Then you go home, and I shall follow.”

“Tea? Oh, sh--” She looked up at the darkness overhead. “I’d nearly forgotten again. They’ll be cross with me.”

“You are their hero, my dearest Matrisiram. They will forgive you.” He snapped his fingers, and her pack appeared on the ground before them.

Summer Ruby sighed as she bent to pick up the bag. “For being late to tea, yes. For allying with their enemy? That might take a few decades.”

Summer Ruby finally made her way into the Crystarium. Emet-Selch had stayed behind in Amaurot, citing a need to tell Hythlodaeus to stop snitching on him, with the promise of catching back up later. She was glad for a bit of a break from the Ascians, and smiled as she made her way up the steps toward the Ocular. The guard directed her to the usual room where the Exarch could be found when he took his brief respites. She was not surprised to find the Exarch still wide awake despite the late hour. Y’shtola sat across the small table from him, idly sipping at a cup of tea and seemingly remaining resolute in not talking to them man. Ryne was there as well, which Summer Ruby had not been expecting, but the girl had her head resting on her arms on the table.

“Ah, there you are.” Y’shtola said, plainly pleased for the diversion. “We did not expect you to take so long to come back to the surface.”

“Welcome back, Summer,” the Exarch said cheerful, his tail giving a little flick as he gestured at the empty seat. “Please, sit, we saved you some tea.”

She smiled. “Thank you. I’d be happy to.”

Tea time was pleasant enough, even though Summer Ruby was quite certain that for the first few minutes of it she was under extreme scrutiny from both Y’shtola and Ryne. They were squinting slightly at her, as though judging the quality and character of her aether. In the end, they said nothing, and did not argue very much when it came to her inability to be detailed about what she had been doing down in Amaurot. She was glad for the lack of a fight, for her unexpected conversation with Elidibus had left her feeling drained. 

The Exarch had noticed her fatigue and insisted she rest for a few hours in her usual room in the Pendants. She was feeling weary enough to agree with him, though she hoped he would leave her be.

Emet-Selch was flopped on the bed when she entered the room, and Summer Ruby knew better by now than to waste her breath asking how he had figured out her destination.

“I’m warming the bed for you.” He hummed cheerfully. “How was tea hour?”

“Could have been worse. The tea is always good, at least.” She set down her pack and sat on the bench by the door to work off her boots. “I’m a little tired, though. Is my--” She paused as she set down a boot, thinking of what she had done this day. “Is my aether alright? I mean, does it look normal to you?”

He sat up with a little grunt. “Whatever do you mean?”

She removed her coat and then padded around to the side of the bed. “I mean, I’ve been through a lot today. First there was, well, letting you go.” She touched his cheek. Emet-Selch flashed a crooked smile and leaned into the touch. “And then there was the whole unexpected confrontation with Elidibus. And when I held my mask to my face, I felt this little tickle of aether on my forehead…”

He hummed in thought. “Oh, that was just it registering with your soul. Since I’ll be the one carrying it around for you, it needs to remember who it belongs to.” Emet-Selch reached and pressed a hand to each side of her face. “Basically imprinting on you so no one else can wear it.”

She watched as he closed his eyes. “Did I do the right thing? I mean, I know you’re biased into saying that I did, but…”

“My sweet Percy. You have always lived to serve the greater good. And, I know it is hard to believe and hard to see right now, so close to your face, but returning to the Convocation will only enable you to this task in the long run.” He patted her cheeks. “Your aether is fine, my dear.”

“Thank you, Hades.”

Emet-Selch leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Let us rest for a few hours. No need to face your friends tired, hm?”

It was strange to sleep, wrapped in the Ascian’s arms, and feel no hint of danger. Tomorrow she would return to the Source, and deal with whatever the day brought. But for the moment, she felt at peace.

[[“So, what do you think of your office?”

“It looks just like your office, except the layout is flipped over. And it isn’t a mess.”

“It isn’t a mess _yet_ , Percy.” Emet-Selch smiled. “I mean Matrisiram.” He gestured to the windows. “What about the view?”

“It’s lovely. You can see the river from here.”

“ _And_ , your door is just across the walkway from mine! Do you know what that means?”

She took in his unusually cheerful smile and could not help but return it. “That you’ll be able to sneak into my office for naps.”

“Oh, don’t ruin the moment, my dear.” He kissed her cheek. “It means I will always be near.”]]


	41. The Path

The world beyond the Crystarium windows was still blessedly dark when Summer Ruby roused from her rest. Emet-Selch was snuggled up against her, his aetherial corpus weighing down her right side and generally rendering her reluctant to move. She called his name softly, but he did not stir, and so she closed her eyes. The sun was up when she next opened her eyes, but the Ascian had departed from the bed and was now looking out the window.

“Ah, good morning, my dearest.” He smiled as he turned away from the window. “Take two sleeps, did you?”

“I didn’t feel like waking you up earlier.”

The smile did not stray from Emet-Selch’s face. “I was not going to chastise you for oversleeping. I’m something of an expert on the subject, myself.”

Summer Ruby stretched her arms over her head and scratched at her ears. “You’re in a good mood this morning.”

“How could I not be? I spent the night with you, Percy.”

“Yes, well. You know that can’t be a thing when we return to the Source.”

He smiled through a wistful sigh. “Yes, I am aware. Perhaps I will still be able to sneak in a nap in the company of Lady Borel when her minders aren’t minding.” Emet-Selch scratched at his nape. “Though, we--well, _you_ will have to find something for the boy to do with his free time. Other than getting handsy with you.”

“We’ll think of something.” She splashed her face with water from the basin in the kitchen. “He cares not for Ishgard, but I think there is still potential in him for good. Or usefulness.” She smiled.

He leaned against the windowsill and watched her. “How much of your old conflux do you think the boy remembers? It was difficult to be certain when I was in his head. He could be quite closed-off with his thoughts.”

“I can’t really blame him for that.” Summer Ruby patted her face dry. “I’m not sure how much he really remembers. I think that it’s far more than he’s let on to me, but he doesn’t really know how to process some of it emotionally. But, his soul certainly remembers mine.” She thought of how the hungry twist of their aether drew them together. “And mine remembered his.”

Emet-Selch turned his face toward the window. “I am happy for you, even as I despair. At least the two of you will have time to help each other remember more.”

She thought of his violent outbursts back on the Source. “You’ll be there for us, won’t you? For me, at least?”

For a moment Emet-Selch did not move, statuesque as a shoebill, but then he nodded. “For you, of course. For Zenos… perhaps someday.” He pushed away from the window. “How about some breakfast?”

“I need to be getting back to the Source,” said Summer Ruby.

“It will still be night on the Source if you go back right this instant,” he said. “Relax, and have something to eat. The Scions will be there to cast judgment upon you whenever you get there.” He waved a hand at her frown. “Oh, _please_. Don’t act as though they don’t judge people as readily as they breathe. Even _good people_ have flaws.”

She didn’t bother arguing with him over the point. “Breakfast is fine.” She watched him nod in satisfaction. “When we go back to the Source, what are you going to do? I mean, um, when we first get back. I know that Elidibus said you have a month to do what you wish.”

“When we first return I will have to find a vessel.” Emet-Selch curled his forefinger against his chin. “Then, I will return to you, my dearest. I promise--I shan’t abandon you.”

Summer Ruby was surprised to find that she felt no bitter afterthought-- _as you did to me_ \--lingering in the cool morning air. Instead the Ascian fixed her with a fond smile.

“How about waffles? Do they have waffles in Eorzea?”

She laughed. “Oh, Hades. Waffles will be just fine.”

The Exarch was alone when Summer Ruby made her way into the Ocular, invisible partner in tow. She was curious at Y’shtola’s absence, but the Exarch merely shrugged and said she had gone off to wait for her calling in private.

“You won’t forget about us here, will you?” he asked, a tentative quake in his voice. She looked down at the old miqo’te and shook her head.

“No, G’raha, I don’t think I will ever be able to forget about the First.”

The morning was muggy when she emerged from the Crystal Tower. The sun had escaped the line of the horizon, and cast an amber glow on the mist that was rolling off of Silvertear Lake.

“I will try not to take too long.” Emet-Selch looked up at the sky. “And, I shall attempt to find a vessel that is not too… objectionable for your morals.”

“Thank you, Emet-Selch.” Summer Ruby kissed his cheek, and then he was gone in a swirl of black and violet. 

She walked for a few minutes before remembering that she did not have to, and then teleported to Mor Dhona. The air was full of the usual early morning chatter, but that all disappeared as Summer Ruby entered the bar and continued on to the Rising Stones. Even as the door closed behind her the sound of Alisaie’s voice echoed from further back.

“And I killed twelve of the beasts. You only killed nine. I counted, Alphinaud!”

“We should still just split the reward.”

Summer Ruby knew there was a collection of private rooms pocketed away in the Rising Stones, and yet she still could not help but wonder if none of the Scions had their own private places to stay. It struck her as a bit sad, when she herself had a home to head back to when she was done here. Of course, that hadn’t always been true--when she had started aiding the Scions, ‘home’ had been wherever they were happening to work at the time. It was not until she had married Aymeric that she had felt more permanently attached to a place. Even Fortemps Manor had not been quite so homey, especially after Haurchefant’s death.

“Summer!” She was drawn from her musing by Alisaie’s voice. “What are you doing here so early?”

“Or at all.” Summer Ruby glanced between the tables until she found the grouchy speaker.

“What are you doing here, Lyse?” she asked. The blonde was in casual attire and nursing a large mug of coffee. Thancred sat on the other side of the table, looking equally grouchy. Urianger sat next to him, his expression calm.

“I came into town last night for a meeting with the Scions. Information exchange.” Lyse did not bother masking a sneer. “You do remember how to do that, don’t you? When you’re not off betraying your own people?”

“They had a lot to drink after the meeting,” Alphinaud said. He shoved a piece of buttered toast into his mouth. Alisaie nodded in agreement.

“Trust me, I would rather not be here so early if I could manage it. I’d forgotten how damn humid it gets here in the morning. But, I just got back into town myself.”

“From where?”

“From the First.” Summer Ruby set her pack on the table and pulled out the unaspected crystal. It gleamed faintly with infused aether. “I come bearing Y’shtola. Well, her beacon.”

Alisaie’s tone was wry. “And here I thought you had forgotten about her.”

“How could I forget one of my dear friends?” She wasn’t about to tell them that while she hadn’t technically forgotten that Y’shtola was still stranded on the First, her fate had been very low on Summer Ruby’s list of priorities over the last few weeks. She had been too busy worrying over her own survival.

Lyse snatched the crystal from her hand. “I’ll do it. Urianger, show me how to do this!” The young woman was already stalking off toward the room where Y’shtola’s body still waited in the dark before Summer Ruby had any thoughts of protesting. Instead, she sighed and lowered herself into one of the chairs. Urianger and Thancred left their table in pursuit of Lyse.

“You didn’t tell us you were going to get her,” Alphinaud said. “We could have done something to prepare for her. Tidied up, at least.”

“It was a surprise.”

Alisaie gulped from a glass of juice before speaking. “You went all the way to the First just for that? You hate dealing with the Exarch.”

Her cheeks heated. “It isn’t like that, Alisaie.” 

“Oh, yeah, sure. You and he are the best of friends.” The little Elezen rolled her eyes. 

“Tell me, what’s been going on in Ishgard, Summer?” Alphinaud asked. “We tried to get in contact a week or so ago and were told you were out on business, and that the Lord Commander was under the weather and unable to meet with us.”

She managed not to frown. “I was out dealing with private business. And Aymeric wasn’t feeling well.”

“Is Merle doing well?” Alisaie asked.

She smiled. “He was just fine when I left Ishgard yesterday. Assuming his babysitters didn’t kill each other, he should still be fine.”

Alphinaud made a puzzled noise at his sister’s amused snort. “Is he still in Ishgard, then?”

Summer Ruby picked up a glass and poured herself some water from the pitcher that sat among the breakfast clutter. “He’s presently a guest at the Borel Manor.”

“What? Who?”

Alisaie lowered her voice: “The crown prince of Garlemald.”

“What?” Alphinaud’s dark eyes widened. “Why would you do that, Summer? He’s _dangerous_!”

“I am aware he has that potential, and honestly that’s the safest place to keep him right now.”

He tutted and shook his head.

“With that in mind, I should probably be heading back to Ishgard,” said Summer Ruby. “They’ll be missing me.”

“You should at least stay until Y'shtola wakes up,” Alphinaud said. “I’m certain that she will wish to thank you.”

“I suppose so.”

Summer Ruby sat with the twins and waited. They chatted idle circles around sensitive subjects while the twins ate their breakfast. Alphinaud made passing mention of a missive he had sent on to Aymeric’s desk the week before, but did not mention its contents. Her mind wandered away from Mor Dhona. What was Emet-Selch doing in his search for a vessel? Were Aymeric and Zenos doing alright? She was a bit less worried about Merle--he was a sensible baby and less likely to get himself into trouble than her husband or paramour.

She could not help but smile to herself at the thought of having the two of them waiting for her back in Ishgard.

“So, how long until Merle’s first nameday?” Alisaie asked. Summer Ruby blinked.

“I’m not quite sure.” She laughed softly. “With everything that’s been going on, I can scarcely tell you what the date is today. Another month, probably? I’m sure Aymeric would know.”

“You’ll have to tell us when you remember. I want to give him a present.”

She chuckled. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.” Her thoughts drifted again, to that time a year or so ago, where she had nearly died giving birth. She thought of Persephone’s ancient wish, of that forgotten dancer who had died in a similar attempt, and wondered why it had gone different this time. _Because you are the Warrior of Light, and you are blessed_. Perhaps. She thought: _If I had died on that bed, I would have never met Zenos. Persephone would have missed Rigel completely. It might’ve been centuries before we had another chance_. She thought of Aymeric, of Zenos, and of Emet-Selch--all three would have been diminished for her loss--and cold like the morning chill in Ishgard gripped at her stomach.

“Are you alright, Summer?” Alphinaud gently touched her arm. She blinked a few times at the moisture on her eyelashes.

“I--yes, I’m fine. I was just thinking of something sad.” Summer Ruby took her glass of water and gulped it half down. “I’m fine.”

“If you want to talk about it, we’re both here for you.”

She forced a smile. “Thank you, but it isn’t something that would make any sense if I tried to explain it to you.”

“Well, if you change your mind…” Alphinaud trailed off as the door to the dark room opened. Thancred, Urianger, and Lyse emerged from the room looking a touch more grim than Summer Ruby would have liked.

“Y’shtola!” Alisaie cried out. “Is she--”

“She is awake,” Thancred said. “She just needs some time to rest.”

Lyse frowned and cast her gaze to Summer Ruby. “We did have a few minutes to talk to her, though.”

“Oh. Well, that’s good, isn’t it?”

Urianger made an uncertain noise. “Summer, thou wert down in the depths of the Tempest again? Unattended?”

She hid a wince. Of course Y’shtola would mention that she had gone to Amaurot in order to locate the Warrior of Light. “I went down to Amaurot, yes. But that’s my own business. It had nothing to do with returning Y’shtola to the Source.”

“Why were you there, then?” Thancred asked. “Were you really by yourself, or was an Ascian with you?” He was tense, ready to find his gunblade, voice heavy with his accusation.

She could not prevent her ear from twitching. “What?”

Lyse’s voice was thin and tense: “Y’shtola told us that when she went down to Amaurot, you were alone, but you didn’t seem to be alone. You were talking to yourself when she found you, and the ambient--” She faltered and looked at Thancred for assistance.

“The ambient aether in your vicinity clearly had some kind of disturbance to it. Not of your aether, of the leftovers from Emet-Selch.”

“Oh.”

“So, who else was there?”

Summer Ruby said nothing. She was stricken with an irritated churn in her breast, weary of having to defend herself against her own allies. She had known this conversation would happen eventually, but had not been expecting it almost as soon as she had returned to the Source. _I should have just left Y’shtola’s crystal here and went back to Ishgard_. It would have been the wiser course of action, especially with both Thancred and Lyse present. Thancred was always aching for a fight when Ascians were involved--a fact that had worn her out during their travels on the First--and Lyse was just spoiling for a fight in general.

“You all are rather quick to accuse me of deceit, when I’ve scarcely said a word.”

“Then, tell us the truth, Summer.” Thancred crossed his arms over his chest and gave her one of the stern-father looks he had picked up while on the First. It didn’t work very well on the older woman.

“I am not one inclined to lie more than I have to,” she said. She took a sip from her glass of water and set it down loudly on the table.

“If you weren’t doing something wrong, you would have told us why you were down there already without stalling,” Alphinaud said. There was no accusation in his tone, but she was disappointed that the boy had been so quick to take sides.

“I’m not sure you would understand the truth if I told it all to you.” She thought of her dear husband, of how Aymeric had struggled to put sense into her words when she had explained who she had been in the past. It was a lot to take in, for one who’s world had always been a simple case of ‘dragons are bad, the Fury will protect us, and I love Summer Ruby’. He had _tried_ , at least, but she suspected that while the Scions might understand what she was telling them, they would be quick to dismiss its value. That much was certain, after the words they had thrown at Emet-Selch in Amaurot.

So, she said: “I did not go back to the First to bring back Y’shtola. I went to seek something out in Amaurot.” Summer Ruby folded her right hand over her left, comforted by the cool slide of her wedding band on her finger. “I can tell you why, but I’m not sure you’ll approve, even if you do understand.”

There was a shift in the room’s atmosphere, and Summer Ruby became aware of the surge of Emet-Selch’s aether as he stepped through a portal near the entryway. Everyone in the room went on alert, and she heard a few weapons being drawn at the other tables.

“By the Twelve!” Alphinaud cried in alarm, nearly tripping as he stumbled to his feet. Alisaie gripped his arm.

“Calm down!” she hissed at him.

“An Ascian?” Lyse said, her hands immediately curling into fists.

Thancred clenched his teeth. “ _The_ Ascian, the one who has been the source of most of our troubles as of late.” He frowned. “The one who most definitely died by Summer’s hand several months ago.”

“My, but you all need to work on your manners,” Emet-Selch said. He had again taken the youthful visage of Solus zos Galvus, down to the white streak in his dark hair and third eye on his forehead. He rested his hands on his hips. “I only came here to check on things.”

Alphinaud cleared his throat. “Pardon our rudeness, but why are you not dead? And what are you doing here?”

“I found that I did not really enjoy being dead again so soon.” Emet-Selch flashed a cruel smirk at Lyse. “Not so soon after leaving the Empire behind.” He immediately ignored the young woman as she sputtered in realization, and turned his attention to Summer Ruby. “Are they giving you a hard time, hero?”

She watched as he paced over to her chair. “No more than usual. They want to know what I was doing in Amaurot.”

“I see. And you have a difficult time with honesty when you know it will make someone close to you cross.” Emet-Selch’s voice was gentle and yet firm. He coaxed: “You should just tell them the truth, my dear.”

“What truth?” Alphinaud said. “The real truth, or the truth as you know it, Emet-Selch?”

“Such bite to your words,” said Emet-Selch, unimpressed. Alisaie squeezed her brother’s arm.

“She is our friend. We should give her the benefit of the doubt.”

Thancred’s face was set in a grimace. “Not if she’s been consorting with the Ascians.”

“A pity,” Summer Ruby heard Emet-Selch murmur. “That they should so easily condemn their greatest ally because of who she keeps as friends.”

She sighed. “I was not keeping it a secret on purpose. Truthfully, I did not know the details myself until but a week or two ago.”

“The details of what, Summer?” asked Alphinaud.

She looked at Emet-Selch, who offered her a sincere, encouraging smile. She took a breath before facing the Scions.

“Do you remember what we learned on the First, down in Amaurot? The city was guided by the Convocation of Fourteen--the surviving members of which became what we know now as the Ascians after the Sundering. Emet-Selch, Elidibus, Lahabrea… and all the others we have faced and destroyed over the last few years.”

Urianger murmured: “Verily, we are well versed on the subject.”

“Yes, well, I…” She looked up at Emet-Selch. He flashed another warm smile and nodded. “Back then, my original soul was--I was part of the Convocation of Fourteen. I was the Fourteenth, the one who was missing during the final days.” 

Alphinaud cut his eyes in the direction of Emet-Selch. “Are you sure this is not simply some falsehood that Emet-Selch has placed in your head?”

“I am. I know it to be true in my very soul. As he is the Emet-Selch, I am the Matrisiram,” she said. The Scions stared at her, each face a blend of surprise and dismay.

“You’re an Ascian?” Alisaie said. Her brows were slightly drawn together, but there was doubt in her voice.

“No, but I was of their company, once upon a time.”

“You _were_ this Matrisiram,” Thancred said, his tone turned pleading and insistent. “But, you aren’t now. That was in the past, just as you said.”

“No.” She shook her head. “I _am_ the Matrisiram. I accepted my post from Elidibus himself, just yesterday.”

“Y’shtola was right, then.” Thancred looked at the Lyse. “She _is_ consorting with the Ascians. Possibly even being controlled by them.” He shot a dark look at Emet-Selch.

Summer Ruby balled her hands lightly at her side as she rose from her seat. “I am still the Warrior of Light. My duty has not changed. I will continue to protect the people of this star, as I always have. And I will do it as I see fit, with or without the aid of the Scions.”

Emet-Selch made a show of looking around the silent room. “My, my, would you look at that? You might as well put your mask and robes on, Percy, they care not for your words.”

Summer Ruby waved a quieting hand at him. “Now is not the time for messing around, Emet-Selch.”

He shrugged. “And who is messing around? I know the murderous glint in their eyes all too well. I only regret that it is you that they are directing the look at, and not I.”

She half-turned away from the Scions. “Elidibus was right, you know, you really can’t resist the chance to cause a scene.”

He smirked up at her. “Guilty as charged. Would you rather I waited to show myself until you had made your case with them and they had put you in chains so that they could search you for signs of contamination?” He tsked softly. “I am not them. I do not sit idly by while you suffer.”

“Watch your tongue, Ascian,” Thancred said. “We know Summer better than you could ever hope to.”

“I do not think you do,” crooned Emet-Selch mockingly.

“Why does this Ascian look like the dead Emperor Solus?” Lyse directed her question at the twins.

“Don’t you remember the parley?” Alisaie said. “Emperor Varis told us that much--the founding father of the Empire was an Ascian. Sowing chaos and all that?”

Lyse frowned. “Then, what does he stand to gain from tricking the Warrior of Light?”

“If the Ascians have her under their sway, then there is nothing stopping them from continuing with the Calamities.” Thancred did not remove his glare from Emet-Selch.

 _He doesn’t need to know how right he is_ , she thought. “I didn’t have to tell you at all. And, perhaps I shouldn’t have. I knew you would immediately jump to conclusions. You all have been too victimized by the world to listen.”

“Summer, perhaps you should just--” Alphinaud cast a look at Emet-Selch before shifting his focus back to her. “--come in the back and talk with us for a bit. Without the Ascian’s interruption.”

“So you can detain me? As though I am a criminal for, what, daring to look beyond the boundaries you have set for me as the Warrior of Light?” Summer Ruby shook her head. “No, I won’t do that. I didn’t come armed, and I would hate to have to settle for punching Lyse in the throat.”

“What was that?” Lyse snapped at her.

“You heard me.”

“What has happened to you, Summer? First Zenos and now an _Ascian_? You really have descended into madness!”

Summer Ruby felt her nails dig into her palms. She clenched her jaw tightly, knowing that she must stay her hand. To attack one of the Scions here would only be the start of a world of problems. She did not want to cause any problems for Ishgard, if it could be helped. The rest of the Alliance was likely already peeved because of Zenos receiving amnesty in Ishgard. The fact that no officials had come directly to Ishgard spoke to her of fear, not of any respect.

None of them could see what she could in him. The problem would be redoubled if they thought an Ascian had any sway in the Holy See. And here she was, standing opposite her trusted allies, defending one of the very beings they had sworn to defeat. It was no wonder that they felt confused and betrayed by her actions of late. Still, she would stick to the path she had chosen.

If hers was the path of madness, then so be it.

“Perhaps I have,” she said after a moment. “I rather like it, to be honest. It’s a pity that the things that give my heart joy must be so secret and scandalous. Perhaps one day, you will be able to understand.”

Lyse looked to Thancred. “We just have to separate her from the Ascian. He’s clearly got her brainwashed or something. We have to _fix_ her!”

“She’s been through a lot, Lyse,” Alisaie said. “We all have, but she--Summer has suffered more for our cause than anyone. Perhaps we should just let her do what makes her happy.”

“And at what cost?” Lyse jabbed her finger in the direction of Emet-Selch. “Sometimes what makes you happy isn’t the right thing for everyone else! She is being selfish and putting everything we’ve worked for in jeopardy!”

Emet-Selch scoffed. “In jeopardy how, you vociferous little harpy? Zenos cares naught for your precious desert wasteland, or any other locale in Eorzea. His interests lie only with the Warrior of Light. And as for the machinations of we Ascians, you seem to forget that we are very good at playing the waiting game.” He smirked and flicked his fingers at her. “We do not need Summer Ruby’s participation in or cooperation with our work in order to achieve our goals.”

“Then, why are you doing this to her?” Thancred asked. The Ascian sniffed lightly.

“Doing what? Treating her with the respect she deserves? Gracing her with the kindness and forgiveness that one gives a dear friend?” He grimaced and flashed his teeth at the Scions. “Perhaps _you_ are the ones whose behavior should be questioned. Except for the little elf twins, she spoke well enough of you. But _you_ \--” He pointed at the elder Scions. “You are all old enough to know better. You should be ashamed. Even if she were to never lift a finger to aid you again, she would have already done too much in the name of your bloodthirsty crusades. She owes you nothing. No justifications, no actions, _nothing_.”

Emet-Selch crossed his arms and leaned away, back straight. The Scions were silent. Summer Ruby looked at the Ascian and his defiant posture, and felt a strange twinge of pride and affection in her breast.

Nearly a minute passed before any of the Scions spoke.

“I think perhaps it would be wisest were you to depart from us,” said Urianger. Thancred huffed and took a step toward her.

“Indeed. You should go. Do not return to us until you get your priorities in order and remember whose side you are on.”

Their words were hurtful, but her lips twitched into a smile. “Very well. I will go.” She brushed her hands together before picking up her pack. “I will be in Ishgard.” Summer Ruby looked at the twins. “You’re still welcome to find me there.”

As she turned and walked toward Emet-Selch, she heard Lyse hiss: “We’re not just going to let them leave, are we? _Ascians_?”

“Let them go, Lyse,” Alphinaud said. Lyse grumbled and pivoted, storming off in the direction of the dark room.

Summer Ruby touched Emet-Selch’s elbow. “I will speak with you outside.” She held her head high, but did not meet the eyes of anyone else in the room as she withdrew from the Rising Stones. Emet-Selch’s playful jeering met her ears as she departed.

“And, really, you could put a little effort into your hospitality. No one even offered me a cup of tea. ‘Tis no wonder the Garleans called you lot ‘savages’.”

The morning humidity had begun to burn off by the time Summer Ruby exited the Rising Stones. She made her way through the early traffic until she found an alley near the market in which to idle. Emet-Selch, of course, had no trouble finding her there. She sensed his radiant aether before he poked his head around the corner.

He said nothing, lips pressing into an empathetic pout, and pulled her into a hug.

After a moment he whispered: “Are you alright, my dearest?”

She leaned into the warmth of his body. “I don’t know. I’m a little sad, you know? That things have gone so poorly with the Scions.”

“It cannot be helped, for now,” he said. “One day they will come around.”

“Do you really think so?”

He gave a noncommittal shrug. “Perhaps they will, perhaps they won’t. If they don’t, that is their loss. And you have no need to fear being left alone. Do not be afraid.” Emet-Selch gave her a gentle squeeze. “You have your husband and Zenos, and me.”

“Thank you, Hades.”

He smiled. “Of course, Percy.” After giving her a quick peck on the cheek, he pulled away and looked up at her. “You should be getting back home now, yes? I will come along later.”

Summer Ruby pressed her palm to his cheek. “You really need to pick something less conspicuous to wear when you’re in Ishgard.”

“That’s dull,” he said. “But, I will consider your council.”

“Good. Come along for dinner, perhaps? Or just after. Before dark.”

Emet-Selch smirked. “After might be wiser. I don’t want to ruin the mood with my presence.”

The sky over Ishgard was nearly cloudless, and the sun danced brightly along the surface of the previous evening’s snowfall. Summer Ruby felt her heart lift as she looked around the aetheryte plaza. One of the Temple Knights standing guard nodded politely at her and smiled, and called well-wishings for her husband’s health.

Shouldering her bag, she quickly made her way through the city. When she finally passed the airship docks, Summer Ruby was surprised to find her husband standing outside the doors to the manor. This was no coincidence, she realized, as Aymeric was staring with a hound’s intentness in the direction of her arrival. He smiled brightly at her approach and met her a few yalms from the doors.

“Did everything go well?” he asked after giving her a kiss of greeting.

“In bits and pieces,” she said. “How did you know I was coming back?”

Aymeric gestured at the doors. “Zenos told me. Rather, he said that he sensed that your soul had returned to the city.”

“Did he now?” This was a pleasant surprise. “I’m glad to see you two didn’t kill each other while I was gone.”

Her husband laughed and shook his head. “It must be a testament to his loyalty to you, because he was surprisingly well-behaved.”

She took his hand as they returned to the manor. “What, no fisticuffs?”

“I’ve been in politics long enough to know when to admit defeat and hold my tongue.” Aymeric shrugged. “He kept to himself, most of the time. He does appear to be recovering.”

“You look improved yourself, my love.”

He smiled and squeezed her hand. “That is because you have returned.”


	42. Where the Heart Lives

Aymeric kept his fingers laced tightly with his wife’s as they returned home. She was quiet, as she often was these days when returning from an adventure.

“How do you feel?” he asked. “I mean, Zenos said the Ascian was in your head…”

Summer Ruby murmured: “His name is Emet-Selch. But, he is no longer in my head, as you put it. I should suppose he will be around eventually.”

He thought of the terrifying man who had threatened his life little more than a week ago. The same man that his wife claimed as an old, dear friend. “So, he yet lives?”

“He does. We agreed that he should wait a few hours before stopping by.”

Aymeric frowned as he bolted the front door behind them. “I don’t know if I like the idea of him coming here, Summer…”

“He will do no harm,” she said stiffly. “He promised me, just as Zenos did.”

He wondered at Summer Ruby’s ability to keep so many powerful men under her sway. Aymeric was, of course, among that number. Or, at the least, he liked to think he was of enough political influence to be considered worthy. Was it a greater claim to be the husband of the Warrior of Light, or the leader of Ishgard? He wasn’t sure it mattered.

“That is good to hear, then,” he said, mind picking briefly over other troubles that Ishgard faced. “One of the missives I received from the Congregation while you were away noted a bit of concern that Imperial scouts had been spotted in the central highlands. Quite a few, in various locations, as though they were scouting for an alternate land based access point to the See.”

Summer Ruby frowned as she removed her coat. “Why would they be seeking to attack Ishgard now?”

“We aren’t certain, exactly. The only guess we currently have is some kind of retaliation because of Estinien’s presence at the death of Emperor Varis. We haven’t received any word yet of the new Emperor being named, though, so we know not who would be putting forth the orders.” Aymeric shook his head. “Do not fret over the matter for now. I just thought that you should be aware.”

“Thank you. I will help where I can, of course.”

He nodded, but said nothing. Summer Ruby stared down the hallway.

“Is Merle awake?” she asked.

“He should still be down for his post-breakfast nap,” Aymeric said. He thought of how, not a quarter-bell ago, Zenos had suddenly started from his doze on the study couch and announced that he sensed Summer Ruby’s soul in the area. “Don’t you want to see Zenos? I’m sure he’s keen on seeing you.”

“Merle first.”

Aymeric wasn’t going to argue with that preference, and guided her down the hall to the master suite. Merle was indeed still asleep in his crib. He watched as Summer Ruby bent over the side to stroke his hair.

“He needs a haircut,” she said. “Don’t you think?”

“There’s nothing wrong with a little extra hair. Keeps his head warm.” 

She smiled and traced her fingers over the point of a little ear. “It’s a little embarrassing to ask, but, when is Merle’s nameday? I’m afraid I’ve lost track of what the date is.”

“Oh. Um--” Aymeric considered the date. “It’s the tenth, isn’t it? His is on the fourth. So, nearly in a month. Why?”

She looked sheepish. “Alisaie asked earlier, and I couldn’t quite give her the exact amount of time.”

“Alisaie? You visited the Scions?”

“Briefly, just before I came back to Ishgard.” Her expression pinched, and she withdrew her hand.

“Ah, did you do something to make them cross again?” He smiled at the flustered sound that escaped her pretty lips.

“Maybe. I’m not quite keen to talk about it right this moment. Still kind of processing things. Give me a little while?”

“Of course, love.”

She looked to the open doorway. “I suppose I should check in on Zenos, then.”

He did not have to tell her where the Garlean was--the Warrior of Light simply seemed to _know_. Leaving their sleeping son in their bedroom, Summer Ruby immediately turned down the hall and went to the study.

Aymeric followed. “Do--do you wish for a moment alone?”

She paused in the doorway and looked at him with a gentle smile. “Sweetheart, you are the Lord of this home. You can go wherever you want.”

He pursed his lips and looked at the wall. “I know.”

Summer Ruby leaned and kissed the hair covering his forehead. “You were just being polite, I know. Thank you, love, but it isn’t necessary. I just want to see how he’s doing.”

“He told me. Zenos did.” The words slipped from his mouth. “About you and him, in the past?”

Her expression blanked. “Did he?”

“That you and he were... bonded. As you and I are now.” Aymeric thought of the conversation. “It is strange. I would have expected Zenos to lord such a thing over me. But, he didn’t. If anything, he seemed somewhat bashful about the subject.”

“We only figured it out recently,” Summer Ruby said, slow and cautious. “To be honest, we’re still sort of trying to figure out what it all means.”

“He said as much. I just--I wanted you to know that I knew.”

“Are you upset?”

Aymeric blinked and shook his head. “No. It is a little off putting, but you cannot help something you did thousands of years ago in a different lifetime. And I suppose that it does help explain some of his rather… intense behavior in relation to you.”

She smiled. “You’ve had some of your own rather intense behaviors in relation to me.”

He lightly gripped her chin and pulled her in for a kiss. “You just have that effect on people.”

Aymeric chose to hang back near the doorway when his wife entered the study. Zenos had moved from the couch in the time since Aymeric had gone to wait on his wife’s return, and was now seated in a chair next to one of the windows. He had a book in his lap, but it was only open to the title page. Aymeric watched Summer Ruby pace into the room, her tips of her ears twitching as she put her hands on her hips.

“Now, there is the fell beast that terrorizes Ishgard.” Her tone was playful, and it caught Aymeric off guard. Zenos tilted his head back to watch her approach. “I’m told by my dear husband that you’ve behaved yourself in my absence. Is that so?”

For a moment Zenos was silent. Then he rumbled: “It is.”

“I’m glad to hear it. You’re such a good man when you want to be.”

“For you.”

“For me.” 

Zenos set the book aside and got to his feet. Summer Ruby shifted back on her heels to look up at him. A flash of jealousy twinged in Aymeric’s breast--was the Garlean going to kiss his wife, right in front of him?

Summer Ruby grasped his jaw in her hands and tipped his face side to side, as though inspecting a chocobo. “Your pallor looks better. You’ve been eating?”

“As much as they give me.”

“Good.” She released his face. “Aymeric told me that you’d been resting. That makes me glad. Between you and Emet-Selch, I’ve never seen two men who take so many naps but never manage to get enough sleep.”

Zenos just grunted softly. “I trust that the business with the old man went well?”

“Better than I could have hoped, in fact.”

The Garlean pressed her hand between his and closed his eyes. After a moment, he murmured: “Your aether feels intact.”

“He did not take what did not belong to him,” she said.

“There is a first time for everything, it would seem.”

Zenos leaned in and wrapped his long arms around her, pulling her close and burying his face in her hair. She stood stiff at his embrace, before relaxing and gently resting her palms on his arms.

“It’s alright, Zenos. I was never in danger. I wouldn’t do that to either of you.”

Aymeric was befuddled by the gentle hum of acknowledgement that came from the big man. Was that Zenos, he wondered, of some faint echo of the soul they said lingered inside of him? It was impossible to tell--perhaps they were just one and the same. Perhaps the monster of Garlemald truly had been tamed by his love of the Warrior of Light.

Zenos released her from their embrace and stepped away. For a moment his face was a neutral mask, but then his eyes widened and he flashed an undeniably enthused grimace at her. Aymeric noticed the hungry gleam of Zenos’ teeth and tried not to cringe.

“Did you fight anything? Any monsters under the sea, perhaps?”

Summer Ruby laughed and shook her head. “No, dear, I didn’t even take a weapon with me to the First.”

The Garlean huffed softly. “You still could have punched something.”

For a moment she looked thoughtful, and Aymeric wondered what was going through her mind. “Maybe next time.”

He butted his forehead against her ear before returning to the chair he had been occupying. “Don’t need to go soft.”

“I know, I know.” She looked at Aymeric and smiled. “Perhaps we’ll have to borrow the training grounds and get a bit of sparring in.”

It was an intriguing, if not slightly frightening thought--his wife and Zenos sparring in the middle of the city. Though, it might be a useful tool to motivate the Knights into training harder… “Just let me know when, I’ll see what can be arranged.”

“I don’t even have a weapon to spar with,” Zenos grumped from his seat.

“Oh, your sword was picked up in the forest with Ser Orage’s lance after your…disappearance. We have it in storage at the Congregation.” He muffled an amused snort at the way the message caused the younger man to perk up. “Though, you would have to use a training weapon during sparring.”

“Don’t go charging off to the Congregation right now,” Summer Ruby said, her tone chiding despite her smile. “You don’t have a need for a sword right this instant.”

“It makes me feel safer,” said Zenos. Aymeric had to turn away and cough, unable to completely suppress a laugh at his words. He expected to be fixed with a glower when he turned around, but instead Zenos was staring at Summer Ruby, mouth pinched into a half-pout. She stooped over him, dark hand gently brushing back the golden curtain of hair from his face, the pad of her thumb sliding across the man’s third eye. Zenos’ eyelashes fluttered, and she smirked.

Aymeric felt like he was being left out of a conversation.

“Besides,” Summer Ruby said after a protracted moment of silence, “you’re safe enough here, Zenos. Though, we are going to have to find something for you to do here.”

“What are you going to do now?” the Garlean rumbled, his expression relaxing at her peaceful words.

“I’d like a chance to be a mother for a bit,” Summer Ruby said. “But, I will fight as needed.”

“You’re always welcome to help out with the continued construction efforts in the Firmament,” Aymeric said. At a wary squint from Zenos, he hurriedly added: “You are strong and dependable, per your foremen. And I’m sure I could convince Lord Francel to permit you to use non-lethal force to break up the occasional scuffle between workers.”

His wife smiled. “You can’t just follow me around looking broody and menacing all the time.”

Zenos huffed faintly. “I don’t see why not. You need someone with you, so you don’t have to be on high alert all of the time.”

He saw something melancholy flicker through her expression. “I do believe that even if someone was always at my side, I would never be able to completely relax. Much as I would like to.”

“You just--” Aymeric swallowed as both of their gazes shifted to him. “You just need time. That’s all any of us need right now.”

“He has the right of it,” was Zenos’ murmur of agreement. Summer Ruby sighed and shook her head.

“Never thought I’d see the day when the two of you were ganging up against me for my own good.”

Aymeric thought of Zenos’ impassioned, if not muted plea to him during their conversation over dessert the night before. _We must both be on her side. Before Eorzea or Garlemald, that is what matters above all_. “We are here for you, my love. Both of us.”

A soft noise choked its way from her throat, and she turned her face toward the bookshelves that lined the far wall of the study. Zenos leaned forward on the chair, stoic face pinching slightly with what Aymeric recognized as concern. He could hear his wife take a trembling breath as she brought her hands to her face and wiped at her eyes.

“Summer?”

“I’m fine.” The words escaped her quickly, too quickly for the truth. “Thank you. It… it means a lot to me. That I haven’t lost everyone yet.”

“Lost?” She had not told him yet what had happened during her latest visit with the Scions, and truthfully he did not want to know what words they had cast upon her. Did they not care for her well-being? For the delicate state of her psyche?

“Lost.”

He retrieved his handkerchief from a coat pocket and went over to her. “Shh. Here, dry your tears, love. I don’t know what they said to you, but you do not owe them anything right now.”

Summer Ruby took the handkerchief and quieted as she composed herself. “Thank you.”

The day passed with little of note, aside from Summer Ruby consuming half a bottle of wine while telling him what had happened at the Rising Stones. Aymeric had consumed the other half of the bottle in an attempt to wash down any unpleasant words he had for her compeers.   
After dinner the evening chill had begun to draw in, and they reconvened in the warmth of the study. The old great clock in the study chimed the hour--a bell before dark. Aymeric was aware of a subtle shift in his wife’s attention. She had been watching little Merle as he dozed off in her arms, but now she got up and settled him gently in the bassinet near the couch. Summer Ruby looked over at Zenos, who was still draped in repose on one of the chairs by the window, book open and unread in his lap.

“Something wrong?” Aymeric asked. Her ears twitched, and she turned to look at him. She smiled.

“Oh, no, I was just noticing the hour…” She smoothed a hand down the front of her gown before returning to her spot on the couch.

He did not have to wait long for the true answer to his query. The clock ticked away only a few minutes more before the sound of a loud, sharp knock echoed from the front doors. Summer Ruby’s ears twitched again, and she looked past him, to the study door. Another minute, and then the steward appeared in the doorway.

“Lord Aymeric, there is a gentleman at the doors who says he is here to see the Lady.”

Summer Ruby was quick to speak: “Let him in. Show him here.”

Aymeric cleared his throat. “Yes, as she says.”

She rose as the steward nodded and hurried off. Aymeric felt compelled to follow, but Zenos did not budge from his post near the windows. 

The man that the steward brought to the study was dressed like a proper Ishgardian lord, his coat black like midnight and accented in red. Aymeric bristled at the sight of the man’s face.

“Lord Galvus,” he said. The Ascian peered at him--down his nose, though Aymeric himself was the taller of the two. However, the man showed a distinct lack of hostility compared to the last time he had entered the Borel Manor.

“Lord Commander Borel,” said the Ascian. “It is so _good_ of you to permit me entrance to your home, after I treated you so poorly upon our last meeting.”

He swallowed at a bitter taste in his mouth. “You used the front door this time. That is, at least, an overall improvement of your behavior.”

He smirked at Aymeric, but then shifted his gilded gaze to Summer Ruby. A gloved hand extended to take hers, and he stooped to press a kiss to her knuckles. “And Lady Borel, I hope the day has found you well.”

She smiled, though there was something steely in her eyes. “Well enough, Emet-Selch.” To Aymeric’s surprise, his wife lurched forward, throwing her arms around the Ascian and squeezing him in a hug. “Oh, look at you! I knew you could pretend to try to blend in.” She released him and stepped back. “Now I just have to get Zenos to the Crozier. I’m sure I can find a tailor that can work with his dimensions.”

The Ascian picked at the front of his coat. “Oh, this old thing?”

Aymeric was starting to get used to feeling like he was being left out of conversations that were going on in front of him. “Ah, could we offer you any refreshments, Lord Galvus? We’ve a wide variety of teas available.”

“I will pass, but thank you for your hospitality.” The Ascian looked pleased as he glanced at Summer Ruby. She rolled her eyes at him.

“If you try to imply that my husband is a savage, I will hit you so hard you’ll need a new vessel.”

Aymeric bristled. “You took another man’s body?”

The Ascian looked affronted. “It was given willingly. I searched and found a man who despaired of living, who longed to be freed from the miseries of his life. I asked for his body, and he consented.”

“It was my idea,” said Summer Ruby. Exasperation twinged in Aymeric’s breast, but he just sighed and shook his head.

“As long as you do not make a habit of defiling the non-consenting dead or living, Ascian.”

“Please, call him Emet-Selch.” She reached and took his hand, the warmth of her fingers soothing.

“Emet-Selch, then.”

“I will do as you ask,” he said. Emet-Selch bowed his head. “I must apologize for my behavior during our last meeting. I was not acting in the best interests of anyone but myself, and only caused pain to you and yours. You do not have to accept my apology, but I offer it all the same.” Aymeric did not think that the Ascian looked sincere, but there was something genuine enough in his tone to remove a bit of the edge that he felt in the man’s presence.

“Are you not going to apologize to Zenos as well?”

“No,” came the flat reply. “I am not feeling _that_ contrite yet.” Emet-Selch flinched as Summer Ruby slapped at his arm. He rested his hands on his hips as he turned to look at his great-grandson. “You look well enough, boy.” He seemed oblivious to how hard Zenos was glaring at him.

“Aymeric made sure that Zenos was well tended to while we were on the First,” Summer Ruby said.

“Your obedience is admirable,” the Ascian said over his shoulder. He flinched at another swat from the Warrior of Light. “What? What did I do now?”

“Stop being so antagonistic,” she hissed at him. “You are among friends and family, Emet-Selch, can’t you settle for just being smarmy?”

Aymeric was confounded by how aggressive his wife was with the Ascian. He held his breath, half certain that they were all about to be snapped out of existence.

Instead, Emet-Selch sighed, his shoulders sagging. “Oh, fine, dear, if you insist on it being _boring_.”

“I do. I need boring right now. You know that.” She pressed her hand to the spot she had smacked, and he nodded.

“Of course.” He flashed a watery smile at her.

From his seat by the window, Zenos spoke up. “I should mention this while you are both here.” He stood slowly and carefully set the book on the chair’s cushion.

“Is something wrong, Zenos?” Summer Ruby’s fingers clenched in the fabric of the Ascian’s coat sleeve.

“No, not exactly.” Aymeric blinked when Zenos looked at him before continuing. “After some heavy consideration, I have defected from Garlemald. As of two evenings ago, I am Zenos Galvus, citizen of Ishgard.”

She brought her free hand to her lips. “Really? Why?”

“For you,” said Zenos.

There was a loud huff from the Ascian. “Oh, can I defect too, then?” Emet-Selch warbled sarcastically. “I don’t want to be Garlean anymore. It’s passe.”

Summer Ruby chuckled. “Well, aside from choosing to make yourself look like that, you aren’t really Garlean anymore, Emet-Selch.”

“You’re no fun, Percy, I wanted to be a defector, too.”

“‘Percy’?” Aymeric echoed at the name. “Is that your name for her? Zenos calls her Aesta and you call her Percy?”

“ _Aesta?”_ Emet-Selch crooned, looking over at Zenos. “My boy, that is adorable.” He waved away Zenos’ glare. “But, as you asked, Lord Commander, yes. Percy, Persephone, maybe even Matrisiram. Those are all things you might hear me call her.”

“Why not just call her by her name? Why not just call her Summer?”

“Technically,” the Ascian said, “her proper name is Summer _Ruby_. No one is actually calling her by her real name.”

It was a fair point, Aymeric had to uncomfortably admit. “Fine, then. I’ll just have to assume that you are talking to her and not me when we’re both in the room, unless I’m specifically addressed.”

Emet-Selch smirked, but Aymeric’s eyes did not miss the flicker of something sad that crossed his face.

“Now, now, Ser Aymeric, I do believe we need to work on your self-esteem.” He sat up out of his nigh perpetual slouch. “You are the holder of two rather high and important positions here in Ishgard. You should not let your thoughts be so easily swayed or so readily driven into doubt.”

This gave Aymeric pause. He knew the sweet-seeming man standing before him was the same that had ruled as the monstrous Emperor Solus zos Galvus for fifty winters, so to hear him be encouraging seemed almost farcical.

“I will… take your words into consideration. Thank you, Emet-Selch.”

The Ascian stared at him for a moment, forefinger curled against his chin. Then his face was split by a smirk. “You’re too gentle a man to ever be a tyrant, I’m afraid, Lord Commander. You remind me of my grandson. Just… shorter. And prettier.” With that, he flourished his hand in the air and turned to better face Summer Ruby. “Well then, our dearest Warrior of Light, have you put any consideration into where you’re going to be keeping Zenos while he lives in Ishgard? I daresay your husband will not approve of him staying under your roof indefinitely.”

She cleared her throat. “No. I haven’t really had the time. Though, Zenos could certainly use a measure of privacy.” She looked to the man in question, but Zenos just jerkily shrugged a shoulder.

“It matters not to me, I am used to having absolutely no privacy.” His pale eyes cut roughly over to Emet-Selch.

Aymeric tried to ignore the obvious unease between the elder and younger Galvus. “As long as he continues to behave, Zenos may stay here until proper quarters are arranged for him elsewhere.” Summer Ruby nodded in agreement.

“I hear there’s always fresh corpses freeing up room in the Brume,” said Emet-Selch. He winced before Summer Ruby finished raising her hand. “I was joking! I thought I’d try it out. I suppose I need different material here.”

Aymeric thought of any possible place to lodge Zenos--someplace that wasn’t terribly far from the manor, lest the big Garlean become restless with distance from his wife. “Well, there are some small, demonstrative homes that have already been built in the Firmament. I suppose one of them could be set aside for Zenos’ usage. Provided he continues to aid the efforts there.”

“You’re just determined to turn me into a beast of burden,” said Zenos with an annoyed sniff.

Summer Ruby paced over to him and rested a hand on his cheek. “Now, now, it is for the greater good. And it improves the people’s opinion of you.”

He groused: “I don’t care.”

“Well, I do. Maybe if you ask nicely they’ll let you travel to the Diadem and aid in the gathering efforts there. Though you might have to pick up rock samples and flowers barehanded, since I doubt they’re keen on you running around with a hatchet unsupervised.”

“I am not a child.”

“No,” Emet-Selch simpered. “A child is far more dangerous.”

“There are still some great beasts roaming the Diadem,” Aymeric said, hoping he sounded helpful and not patronizing. “Efforts are always being taken to help keep the gatherers safe. Perhaps you might find something new to rip apart with your bare hands.”

Zenos shot him a look that was not quite disdainful. “Perhaps. I will have to speak with that Lord Francel.”

_I really am going to have to keep the three of them separated_ , Summer Ruby thought as she stood in the study. Dealing with Aymeric, Zenos, and Emet-Selch all at the same time was exhausting, as was any kind of meeting when the tender egos of three powerful people had to be kept indulged. She knew her presence was the only thing keeping the men from openly sniping at each other, if not rising to greater hostility. 

Aymeric sighed and scratched at the base of his right ear. “If no one protests, I believe that I will go partake in my evening ablution.” He caught her eye. “Will you be alright entertaining our guest?”

She moved closer and kissed him. “Don’t worry, I can handle things if a fight breaks out.”

He gave her a tired smile. “Good. I’ll save you some hot water.”

Neither elder or younger Galvus moved when Aymeric closed the door behind him. Summer Ruby sighed and made her way to the couch.

“Honestly, Emet-Selch, you can say _some_ kindness to Zenos. You were awful to him.”

“I do not care for his false reparations,” muttered the younger man.

“See? He doesn’t want me to apologize.” Emet-Selch crossed his arms and tipped slightly to the side. “He probably would rather run me through with a sword a few dozen times, but I’d rather not have to go and procure another vessel so soon.”

Zenos leaned his elbow on his knee and rested his chin on his fist. His glare remained fixed on his great-grandsire. “What if I procure another vessel for you beforehand?”

Summer Ruby sighed again and rubbed at her forehead. She had known that putting Emet-Selch and Zenos into the same room was going to be a mistake, but had hoped that at least one of the two would be able to feign civility well enough that she could avoid a headache.

“Just stop. Both of you.” The men both quieted and looked at her. She rubbed the heel of her palm into her right eye. “I was hoping that, for my sake, you two could at least pretend to get along. I know you won’t really get along. I know there is too much bad blood between you. But, for me? If all goes well, you will have to put up with each other’s presence for a very long time, so you could at least--” She heard a soft murmur from the bassinet and quieted herself.

To her surprise, Emet-Selch moved and met her at the side of the crib. Merle was sitting up, dark eyes bleary with sleep, and his chubby face scrunched into a pout. She smiled down at him.

“Now, do you need something, my little blackbird, or have we simply disturbed your meditations?” It took effort not to laugh at how the little half-elf looked so uncannily similar to his father when he was grumpy.

“Ser Aymeric changed him two bells ago,” Zenos reported from his post.

“Just making a little fuss, then.”

“Ah, the little prince in person,” Emet-Selch cooed as he half-stooped over the crib. “He really does look like a wee version of the Lord Commander. Well, except for the nose. Mother’s nose.” He smiled broadly as the infant grimaced up at him. “He’s going to be a big lad, isn’t he?”

“If he’s not, I’ll be disappointed.” Summer Ruby carefully scooped Merle out of the crib. He clung to her chest, thumb tucking into his mouth while the deep sapphires of his big eyes remained focused on the Ascian. “Oh, don’t be so sour, Merle. Uncle Hades is just here to say hello. He’s been looking forward to meeting you.” She looked at Emet-Selch. “Haven’t you?”

The smile lingered on his lips. “For moons now, yes. Your mother thinks the world of you, little one.” For a moment his expression faltered, before the smile resolutely returned. “More than you might ever understand, I should expect.”

Summer Ruby thought of the agreement that had been reached on the First. “Enough to forestall the future.”

Emet-Selch’s gaze shifted from the infant to her. It was a searching look, shifting from red eye to blue and back again, and she was reminded of their first night together on the First. “Are you well, my dearest?”

“I--” She hesitated and turned away. Zenos had sat up from his brooding slump, and was watching her. His brows were pinched together, but he remained respectfully silent. Summer Ruby combed her fingers through the infant’s hair. “You know, back on the First…”

Emet-Selch’s boots clacked softly behind her. “Go on.”

“I mean, you know what happened to me. Better than anyone else, I would imagine. Certainly better than the Scions could understand, and better than I could explain to anyone here on the Source.”

“Of course.”

“After it was over… After you were dead and I had been purged of all that Light… It still hurt. It still felt like my insides were burning and that I was still going to die. It lingered when I returned to the Source, but fortunately that pain has faded.”

“Ah.” Emet-Selch stopped behind her, close enough that she could sense his aether. “I see.”

“I suppose I have healed, gotten better, but I still can’t help but think something is broken inside of me.”

He murmured: “The wounds heal but leave scars. Tell me, what do you think is broken?”

Summer Ruby looked down at the black swirl of Merle’s hair. “I haven’t really talked about it to anyone.” She had been first too embarrassed to do so--for who would care if the Warrior of Light wished for her child?--and then too busy with other problems to dwell heavily on the issue. “I--um--I know it seems a strange thing for a woman such as myself to complain over, but when I returned from the First, I found that I could not feed my child. The well had dried up, so to speak. And neither have my other _womanly_ functions returned.”

Emet-Selch hummed a thoughtful note. “Ah, you were concerned because you were being intimate with those who were not your dear Lord Commander.”

She nodded. “I don’t know if it’s because of what the Exarch did to me, or what the Light did to me. Am I being punished by Hydaelyn? I don’t--I don’t know.” She bit at her lower lip and looked to where Zenos sat. He was still staring, silent, his expression beyond her comprehension.

Emet-Selch said: “There are faint blemishes, but otherwise your soul is intact. Beautifully so, despite its incomplete nature. Your body, however, is indeed damaged. The Light of the First still lingers in the cracks, fills things in, taints the system...” She felt the pressure of his palm against the base of her spine. “And I am afraid there is nothing that can be done for the damage in this lifetime.”

Summer Ruby swallowed against a tightness in her throat. “Nothing at all?”

“Well.” He hesitated. “Perhaps, given enough time, the Light might work itself out of your system. But I can’t put any sort of guarantee into such a suggestion.”

“I understand.” She sighed, and Merle squirmed in her arms. “Thank you for your honesty, Emet-Selch.” She winced as the baby landed a kick just below her ribs. “I don’t--I don’t think he trusts you to be so close.”

“Wise child,” Emet-Selch said. He took a step back.

“I’m sorry, Emet-Selch…” Summer Ruby trailed off as Merle grumbled unhappily. Zenos got to his feet, crossing the space to her in three paces. 

He held out his hands. “Might I?”

She blinked, surprised at the request, and looked down at the open planes of his outstretched palms. She looked up at the Garlean, who simply lifted his brows. Summer Ruby nodded. She attentively transferred the child to Zenos’ hands, watching as he tucked one arm under the infant’s bottom, his free hand resting against Merle’s back. She wondered where he had learned to hold a baby--perhaps he had been covertly observing Aymeric in her absence?

Merle huffed softly and slumped against the Garlean’s chest. His little fingers grabbed at a handful of the golden hair that was slung over Zenos’ shoulder, and then stuffed it into his mouth. Zenos said nothing, quietly returning to his chair by the window.

Emet-Selch chuckled softly. “There must be something about blond hair that makes it look delicious to little ones. Zenos himself used to…” He trailed off, something distant and wistful tracking across his eyes. He shook his head. “That was a long time ago.”

She took his hand, threading their fingers together and giving a squeeze. “He’ll like you eventually.”

A soft snort escaped the Ascian. “Zenos, or the baby?”

She smiled. “Merle. I cannot speak for Zenos. Undoing decades of ire and indifference in your great-grandson is your own task, dear Hades.”

He sighed, thumb tracing a line down the center of her palm. “If you think it a worthwhile use of my time.”

She knew what he meant. What she had come to know of Zenos was that his emotions still ran a shallow current over his heart, few of them digging in enough to cut their own deeper channel into his thoughts. His adamant need for her had been the first to find purchase. So it was possible that, given enough time, Zenos’ present irritation and enmity towards Emet-Selch would fade into disinterest, if never forgiveness. Much the same she knew that any apology from Emet-Selch would not be sincere. So, standing and watching Zenos sit with his eyes closed, looking as guileless as the infant in his arms, Summer Ruby resolved to leave the matter rest for the time being. If they came to blows, she would sort them out.

“Percy?” Emet-Selch squeezed her hand, looking up at her with a questioning mien.

“Hm? Oh.” She swung their joined hands toward Zenos. “I wonder. Do you recognize Merle’s soul?” Emet-Selch squinted at the infant for a moment.

“Mm, no, can’t say that I do. There were hundreds of thousands living in Amaurot alone, and I cannot say that I knew them all.”

She nodded in acceptance. “It is probably for the best that you don’t.”

Emet-Selch chuckled. “You truly have no idea. Remind me later to tell you of the time in the Second Era that I ran into one of Hythlodaeus’ reincarnations as a child and he proceeded to stalk me for the next two decades.” He huffed. “Didn’t even _want_ anything from me, other than to be a pain in the arse.”

Summer Ruby smiled. “That sounds like something he might do.”


	43. Hunter, Huntress

The late-morning light streaming through the windows was a milky white, telling of the snow that was falling outside. It was accompanied by the persistent tap-tapping of construction. Summer Ruby sighed and pressed her face into the curve of Zenos’ throat. He hummed softly, fingers drumming along her back in time with the hammering.

“How do you sleep with the construction noise?”

He chuckled and patted her back. “I don’t sleep once the sun has come up.”

“Oh. Of course.” Summer Ruby turned her face to look at the solitary room of the little house in the Firmament that Zenos had been given. He had only been in the dwelling four days, and as such the decorations were still very sparse and utilitarian. “You need a few rugs.”

Zenos hummed again, tracing his fingers along one of the seams that lined her back of her coat. “The cold floor doesn’t bother me.”

“Well, it bothers me. I’d like to be able to take off my boots when I visit you.”

“I’d rather you take everything off when you visit me.”

She stuck out her tongue. “Then, get some rugs. Maybe some chairs… you know, more furniture than just a bed and a table and a nearly empty armoire.”

Zenos caught her tongue with his lips and kissed her. “I cannot just snap my fingers like the old man and dress up a house. I don’t know anything about decorating.”

She chuckled. “Neither do I.”

Summer Ruby kicked her feet and got up from the bed. She was aware of Zenos’ gaze following her as she walked to one of the windows and peered outside. The world was still white--snow falling and fallen, and being disrupted by the work still going on in the Firmament.

“A blizzard?” Zenos said idly, sitting up and rebuttoning the front of his shirt.

“That’s what the guards said. White out conditions across the gorges; couldn’t see the signal lights overnight.”

“The Ishgardians need to invest in a more effective communication system.”

“They didn’t need one, before the Calamity.”

He huffed: “Poor excuse.” Zenos went over to the table and pulled back the lid on the basket of food that Summer Ruby had brought with her. “To be content to slowly freeze to death, rather than do anything to improve their conditions.”

She just shook her head rather than argue. Zenos broke a cornmeal muffin open and stuffed half into his mouth.

“So, what were your plans for today?”

“ _I told you_ ,” Zenos said, his words resonating in her head as well as though he had spoken them into her ear. “ _I already informed the foreman I was taking the day off to spend it with my friend._ ”

“Well, then it’s fortunate that I called for Ser Orage to keep an eye on Merle for me today.”

He swallowed and wiped at the corner of his mouth. “Indeed.” His eyes strayed to where his katana leaned in the corner near the crackling fireplace. “Were you still open to a bit of sparring this afternoon?” The remainder of the muffin disappeared into his mouth.

“I am, assuming the weather clears up.” She squinted out the window. “It was still pretty windy when I came in.”

“ _And, where is the old man?_ ”

Summer Ruby snorted. “I didn’t check on him before I came here, but I suspect that he is continuing to try and spend as much of his free month sleeping as possible.” She turned away from the window. “And I am rather inclined to let him get his rest.”

“ _He doesn’t deserve you_.”

She shook her head. “And some will say the same of you.” At his slight pout, she added: “I wouldn’t say that, though. I know better.” She smiled, and the pout faded.

Zenos rested his weight against the table while looking through the basket. Summer Ruby watched him, feeling a flutter of warmth in her breast, simply glad for his company. It was in the lull that accompanied him eating a second muffin that the distant sound of bells met her sensitive ears. _Ding-ding, ding-ding_. Distant, a bit urgent.

“Do you hear that? Bells?”

He cocked his head to the side and shrugged.

Then a second set of bells joined in, closer and louder. Now the sounds of construction outside faltered and stopped. Zenos frowned around his breakfast and paced over to the window. Outside there were loud, concerned voices.

_Ding-ding, ding-ding._

Aymeric sat in his office, reading the reports from the night watch. There had been, as Ishgard was ever prone to having these days, a blizzard during the overnight. Whiteout conditions, disruption of the usual visual communication channels, and the like. Nothing out of the ordinary, no different from the reports of the last several blizzards. The snow had stopped by the time he had gone into work that morning, but he had huddled miserably in his coat against the wind that continued to snarl through the city thoroughfares.

Summer Ruby had mumbled something in bed about checking in on Zenos today. He hoped she didn’t go out while the weather was so foul, but much like the Garlean she was less affected by the cold than other Ishgardians. He sighed. As long as she was safe, he told himself, then it did not matter where she ventured. Ten days had passed since the uncomfortable meeting in the study, and he considered it fortunate that he had not again had to cross paths with the Ascian. Emet-Selch was sleeping, a favored passtime according to Summer Ruby.

He picked up his mug of coffee and took a gulp. Aymeric grimaced--the chill in the room had already begun to sap the heat from the beverage. He swallowed another mouthful, considering his agenda for the day, and wishing he could go back home and burrow under the bedcovers. Surely the men and women of the House of Commons would understand…

_Ding-ding, ding-ding._

Aymeric sat up from his contemplative slouch. He recognized the sharp sound of the bells at the guard house near the Arc of the Worthy--he had heard it ring countless times over the years to alert that dragons had been spotted in the area. What was it ringing for now?

 _Ding-ding, ding-ding_.

He got up, grabbing his sword and affixing it to his hip as he threw open the door to his office and nearly walked right into the guard who had come to summon him.

“My Lord, it is urgent!”

 _So I gathered from the bells._ “Yes, thank you.”

Out in the common room Aymeric was greeted by the sight of Sers Lucia and Handeloup crowding near a small knight wearing the colors of House Fortemps. The young man--an Elezen not yet grown--was slumped against the planning table, motionless. The back of his armor was streaked with blood.

“Lord Commander,” Lucia saluted at his approach. “This poor lad comes from Camp Dragonhead. They’re under attack by the Empire.”

“Sir,” the messenger held out a crumpled dispatch. “They came out of the snow in the dark, sir.”

Aymeric gently took the folded paper and set it on the table. “There’s a brave lad.”

The young man coughed. “I don’t think the other messengers made it through the lines. I was the third Lord Emmanellain sent through. The Imperials have claimed the Gates and were yet laying siege to the Camp when I left. They shot at me when I slipped through…” He shivered. “They just came out of the dark.”

“Shh, it’s alright now. You’re safe here.” Ser Handeloup gently touched the young man’s shoulder. “Did they give any cause for their attack?”

“N-no, sir. We were in the mess taking breakfast, and then this big black machina just stomped up to the gates and started firing.” His pale eyes widened. “They shot an adventurer right off his chocobo!”

“Are they making a declaration of war, or--” Aymeric cursed softly as realization struck him. “Estinien.”

“Sir?” The messenger looked at him, uncertain. Aymeric shook his head.

“Not your concern. Thank you for your heroic duty.” He gestured at one of the knights waiting in the doorway. “Go to the infirmary with this man, posthaste. Let them know they will likely be seeing more patients soon, and have your wounds tended to.”

The messenger saluted. “Yes, sir!” 

“Estinien isn’t in Ishgard right now,” Ser Handeloup said. “He reported that he was leaving for Othard not quite a week ago.”

“I know. But the Empire likely doesn’t know that, and I doubt they care if they do.” He smoothed the missive out on the planning table, ignoring the smudges of blood on the creases. “We knew that Estinien’s presence at Emperor Varis’ murder would come back to haunt us eventually, but why did it take this long?”

Lucia stood next to him, peering down at the words hastily scrawled by Lord Emmanellain’s scribe at Camp Dragonhead. _Normal response from the Locks and Observatorium. Lights out at the Gates and Whit.Front since before dawn, thought possibly due to the storm. Imp. forces struck just before the storm broke, bell after dawn. Whole cohort, several machina spotted._

“Castrum Aquilonis,” Lucia said after a moment. “It likely took some time to get the transporter there back in working order. It would be dangerous, but so would be attacking Ishgard at all. They must have come down the mountains from there, under the cover of the storm. If they took to Daniffen Pass it would give them access to Whitebrim and the western side of Camp Dragonhead.”

“And the Gates of Judgement.” Aymeric cursed again. He tilted his head back, listening to the continued ringing of the alarm bells. “Send a runner to get the Warrior of Light. If she isn’t at home, look for her at Lord Galvus’ residence in the Firmament. We are going to need her assistance.”

Ser Handeloup nodded and hurried to get one of the squires.

Aymeric considered their situation. The forces in Ishgard were still a bit thinner than he would have liked, as some knights and soldiers were still out aiding in Gyr Abania. Even with Hilda and her Hounds providing support, there was a limit to how many knights he could safely send to Camp Dragonhead. And waiting for support to arrive from the rest of Eorzea was not an option, not when they had already lost so much time with the blizzard.

“Aymeric?” Lucia was looking at him, waiting for instructions.

“We will just have to make do with what we have,” he said. “Lucia, I need the airship that is providing service to the Diadem recalled. We’re going to have to ferry what knights and infantry we can by air--we can’t risk opening the Gates. Have them dropped off at the Steel Vigil. They will be able to reinforce those fighting at Camp Dragonhead.”

“With the weather, sir?”

He shook his head. “I know, I don’t like it. We’ll just have to pray for Halone to be merciful.”

Lucia nodded. “Yes, sir.” 

Not quite a bell later, Aymeric gripped the railing of an airship as it made its way gingerly across the expanse of the Sea of Clouds. The sky was gray and full of blowing snow, but he could still make out the distant dark shape of the ruins of the Steel Vigil. The airship was one that regularly made trips through the tumultuous Sea on its way to the Diadem, and the captain was experienced. Still, Aymeric could not stop the nervous jerk in his stomach whenever the wind made the ship’s hull tremble beneath his feet.

He wished for the Warrior of Light.

Try as they might, the squire sent out by Handeloup could not locate either Summer Ruby or Zenos. They did not seem to be in Ishgard at all. He could not fault them for wanting to spend the day at a warmer location, but they had certainly chosen the worst of days to run off.

Aymeric’s fingers ached from gripping at the railing, but he only clasped them tighter as he turned to men and women huddled on the deck.

“Remember the briefing!” Aymeric shouted over the whine of the wind. “Assume the Imperials have seen us coming in! Eyes and ears open! Keep with your partner--I don’t want to lose anyone to the snow today! Reconvene at the entrance to the Vigil!”

The hull of the airship shuddered beneath him as the craft banked into the wind in its approach. The crew shouted to each other, but his own people were silent. Aymeric strained his ears, but the wind was blowing from behind them and offered no hint of what waited ahead.. The broken shapes of the Steel Vigil loomed in overhead, larger than he remembered them being. More shouting from the crew, and then below on the ground there was a small explosion of snow as a dragoon speared their way down to the frozen turf, mooring line in tow. A second followed, and after several minutes of effort the vessel was secure enough to allow the passengers to disembark. 

Aymeric waited until the last of his soldiers had safely descended into the white.

“We ain’t comin’ back to get ya, Lord Commander!” the captain shouted. “So you’d best run them Imperial dogs off!”

He gave the man what he hoped was a confident smile before he grabbed onto the tow line and flung himself over the side and into the frozen void.

There was a lack of the usual prowling beasts near the entrance of the Steel Vigil, and for that he said a silent word of thanks to Halone. Aymeric did a quick head count before leading his troops down the slopes that lead to Camp Dragonhead. As they neared, the drifting smell of burning wood and flesh was joined by a billowing black cloud that twisted through the gray sky. The northern gates were closed, but the guards were quick to scramble for their opening at the approach of Ishgardian forces.

“Oh, thank the Fury. One of the boys must have made it through!”

“Where is your commander?” Aymeric managed not to flinch at the sound of the western gates straining under fire from beyond.

“Lord Emmanellain is in the infirmary,” the guard said.

“Wounded?”

“Yes, but not gravely. His minder insisted it was better if he was tended to straightaway.”

A knight of House Fortemps approached, looking relieved. “We are badly outmanned and outgunned, Lord Commander.”

“What is the situation?”

“Siege,” the knight said. He pointed to a charred gouge in the ground before the western gate. “We managed to drive off the initial attack and get the gates closed, but there were casualties. The gates have been holding since, but they’ve been bloody persistent with the cannons on those machina. They’ve been pressing at the southern gate as well, and cut us off from any support that might come from the Locks.”

“I have brought who could be spared,” Aymeric said. The knight nodded.

“We are most grateful. We lost most of the morning guard in the initial attack.”

“We will support however we can. The Empire will have no foothold in Ishgard. Not this day, or any other.”

The knight nodded. “At your discretion, Lord Commander, we could use some assistance in reinforcing our northern and southern walls. The Imperials troops have been scaling the ridges to approach the gates.”

"I will have our archers help man the walls, then."

After directing his forces to various parts of the fortress, Aymeric grabbed a longbow and quiver from the weapons storeroom and made his way up the stone steps that led to the western wall. He crouched and peered through one of the arrowslits. For the first time, he was able to make out the mass of the Imperial forces. From the somewhat limited viewpoint several dozen black clad figures were visible, along with the hulking form of a unit of magitek armor. Whenever the machina opened its mechanical maw, it shot out a blast of energy that shook the stones beneath his feet. The Imperial troops were taking shots at the ramparts, but fortunately did not appear to be successfully hitting any of the Ishgardians at their posts.

Aymeric moved up the wall. He wondered idly what cohort was here, and who was in charge of them. He had no idea who was in charge of the 14th Legion these days, or who was even currently in charge of the Empire. His most educated guess was their attackers were soldiers of the 5th or 6th cohort, come from their usual hiding spot in Castrum Centri. He sighted down the length of an arrow, but aside from a few centurions, no leaders stood out. He was glad for the dull grays of the heavy coat he had elected to pull on over his armor, as its brilliant blues and golds would only highlight him as a target to the enemy.

Dead, he was of no use to anyone.

He heard soft utterances of warning from the archers to his right, followed by the sounds of several arrows being loosed toward the cliffs. An Imperial soldier rolled back to the snows below, two arrows jutting from their form.

Aymeric was considering the next order to give when he noticed a strange lull in the sound from beyond the western wall. The machina had stopped its attack, and the attention of the soldiers that he could see was all shifting to the west. Something off toward the Gates of Judgement had stolen their attention. He heard shouting in Common and Garlean, but the wind was still at his back and blowing the words away.

And then, in the distance, there was an explosion. 

The Imperials turned as a unit toward the billowing plume of blue flame. Despite the prevailing wind, the smell of burning ceruleum met his nose, sharp and bitter. The machina that had been assaulting the western gate began to stomp off in the direction of the explosion, and Aymeric quickly gestured to the archers to open fire. He knew not the source of the distraction, but he was not about to let it go to waste. He fired arrows into the lines of soldiers until his quiver was empty.

The machina was still visible some fifty yalms ahead. He saw the flash of its cannon into the gray. Then, an answering streak of crimson shot down from the heavens, gashing the side of the black armor and bringing it to a stop. A figure clad in red was briefly visible before it leapt away. A dragoon, Aymeric surmised in surprise, but not one of Estinien's men. He watched the dragoon reappear closer, their downward strike throwing several soldiers aside. He heard a wondering murmur from one of the archers. Aymeric squinted, trying to make out the identity of the dragoon, but their face was covered by a silvered helm that looked like it had been borrowed from the cache at the Congregation.

There was something familiar about how the figure moved, though he could not quite pinpoint what. A certain grace as the dragoon leapt into the air and came crashing down again in an explosion of brilliant blue aether. There was something equally familiar about the red of the dragoon’s leather armor--

A second figure joined the first in the fray--similarly clad in concealing helm and wearing a dark red coat over their black armor. There was the flash of a sword, and then a bubble of rusted red energy expanded around the figure and exploded through the crowd of Imperials. The swordsman turned and followed as the dragoon tore through another line of the infantry. There was a flicker of gold behind the second figure, and as his brain processed that it was not a cloak but hair, Aymeric realized--

“ _Seven hells_!” Something warm thrummed through his belly as he watched the dragoon and briefly glimpsed the red lines of long ears pushed back by the helmet.

His wife.

Aymeric was startled out of his focus by a clatter of wood against stone at his side. He looked down at a fresh bundle of arrows as a squire laden with quivers rushed off to the next archer. He glanced around, taking quick stock of those around him. A line of Temple Knights were up on the wall, weapons in hand, watching the melee below. The two Knights Dragoon were watching as well, leaning on their lances.

“That isn’t Ser Estinien is it?”

“Nay, haven’t seen him in weeks.”

He returned his attention below at the sound of metal shrieking against metal. It took him a moment to find the figures of the Warrior of Light and her companion in the swarm of black. They were nearly back to back, taking turns knocking charging soldiers aside. The machina fired a shot at them, but it was diffused into nothing as Zenos raised his hand and erected a shimmering red shield of energy that absorbed the blast.

Aymeric nocked an arrow and let it loose into the back of one of the soldiers in front of the pair. Summer Ruby’s head jerked, following the collapse of the Imperial. Then it pivoted again, and the helmed visage pointed directly to where he stood up on the wall. He felt a blush heat his cheeks as she stared in his direction, and then lifted a shushing finger to the mouthpiece of the helm. Her hand returned to the shaft of her lance. She swung the weapon, momentarily clearing the space in front of her. 

Zenos reached over his shoulder with his empty hand. The thick gloved fingers closed around the shaft of the spear. Aymeric watched, dumbfounded, as Zenos hurled the weapon heavensward, owner and all. It crested well past the height of the fortress walls, and Aymeric stared as her body shimmered with a veil of blue energy, back arching slightly, descent momentarily stalling as she flipped the length of the lance in her hands. Then she plunged back to earth, tip of the spear piercing the armored hull of the machina. She wrenched the weapon free and leapt away as the magitek armor exploded. A moment later and she was back at Zenos’ side. There were impressed murmurs from the gathered knights.

To Aymeric’s bewilderment, Zenos removed his helm. Even at a distance he could see the toothy brightness of the man’s wide grin. The crowd of soldiers surged in recognition of their prince, and then recoiled as he belted the closest man--a centurion from the looks of it--across the face with his helm. The armor was tossed aside, and both he and Summer Ruby leapt away from the sudden roil of Imperial soldiers. They turned and began running in the direction of the Gates of Judgement, away from the relative safety of Camp Dragonhead. The Imperials surged after the pair.

Aymeric realized that his wife might have been just a tiny bit insane.

But, one would have to be, to be the Warrior of Light. That’s what she would tell him. Aymeric surveyed the scene below. Nearly the entire cohort had turned in pursuit of Zenos and Summer Ruby. The archers were picking off the stragglers. Aymeric stood and started for the steps. He waved at the knights on the wall.

“Come on, men! They’ve cleared the way for us--we can’t let them have all the fun! For Ishgard!”

“Ishgard!”

It was late when Aymeric finally returned home, the sun was creeping close to the horizon and painting the icy world in comforting shades of gold and rose. His body ached, but he was alive, and he could handle a few minor injuries in the name of peace. And peace had indeed been the final word of the day, bought with the blood of nearly a whole Imperial cohort. Aymeric had waited to excuse himself from his duties until the last of his men had been seen to--mostly at the infirmary, aside from a few unfortunate casualties.

A grim few days lay ahead of Ishgard, but he knew it could have been far worse. 

When he finally reached the front steps of his home, Aymeric was greeted by a man he did not immediately recognize. It took him a moment of consideration in the cold--the man was an Elezen, a few ilms shorter than Aymeric himself, dressed in a heavy black coat with a red cravat at his throat. The Elezen had snowy white hair and a pearl earring dangling from his left ear. It was not until the man opened his pale eyes that Aymeric was able to put the picture together.

“Emet-Selch,” Aymeric said. 

The stranger grinned toothily and pushed away from the wall. “Very good, Lord Commander. ‘Tis but a glamour, but your lovely wife is correct. A bit of a disguise does help in a city like Ishgard.”

Aymeric was too fatigued to feel like entertaining the Ascian today. “I do not believe I saw you near the fray.”

“Of course not,” came the calm reply. “Wouldn’t want to give you too unfair an advantage. After all, you already had the Warrior of Light and my great-grandson fighting for your cause.”

The man’s lack of care was irritating. “What if something had happened to them during the fighting? What if they faced mortal peril?”

Emet-Selch grimaced at the suggestion. “Were Summer Ruby truly in danger, I would have intervened. However, I would sincerely appreciate it if you would not wish such misfortunes down upon her head.”

“I do not.” Aymeric swallowed, feeling uncomfortable under the sudden intensity of the man’s yellow eyes. “I was simply wishing to ascertain a baseline for the future.”

The Ascian stared hard at him for a long moment. Then he blinked and looked away, expression wilting. “She has been through enough already, wouldn’t you say? Perhaps you ought do your wife a favor and not run around picking more fights that she must finish for you.”

He wanted to argue with the man-- _he_ had not started the fight, had not set the Imperials upon Ishgard and the rest of the world. Aymeric wanted to argue many things, but knew, as the Ascian’s expression turned disinterested and he moved to leave, that he would just be wasting his breath.

“You don’t wish to see her?”

Emet-Selch paused. “What, and interrupt her bubble bath? I think not. I merely promised to keep watch for your return, as she requested. Were you not to return before dark, she wished to be alerted.”

“Why?”

His lips curled in an indulgent smile. “Why not?” He shrugged and continued to stroll away into the lengthening shadows. “Perhaps I was just bored.”

The scalding heat of the bathwater had long since faded into a pleasantly warm embrace. Summer Ruby rested her head against a folded towel. She fought to keep her eyes open, despite the protests of her body. She felt tired but peaceful, the thrill of victorious combat having long since dwindled and stolen the adrenaline from her veins. She and Zenos had not stayed to see the battle to its conclusion--by the time they had cleared a proper path from Camp Dragonhead to the Gates of Judgement, Zenos had bored of the sport and grown weary of his former countrymen calling for him. Zenos had brought her back to his little residence in the Firmament and spent the middling hours of the afternoon kissing the sweat from her skin, half intoxicated by the pleasure of fighting at her side. When he was satisfied that he had surveyed every ilm of her--from ankle to belly to ear and back again--Zenos had settled down on his bed and announced his need for a nap.

Summer Ruby had kissed him goodbye and let him rest--he had earned it.

And now, after speaking with Emet-Selch for a few minutes and then making sure Merle had been taken care of, she had retired to the bath.

She had again nearly dozed off when she heard the creak of the bathroom door and the soft rattle of her husband’s armor.

“Welcome home, my dear husband.”

Aymeric heaved a sigh, which caused a slight wince and his hand to press to the spot of his previously cracked ribs. “I am so elated to be safely home.”

She sat up in the water and looked at her husband. A longing overcame her, to hold him, to see his skin, to make sure that he was whole after the day’s trials. She held her hands out to him.

“Please, Aymeric. Enjoy the water with me?”

His tired face cracked into a smile. “Of course, my love.”

Summer Ruby watched as he stripped down from his armor, noting the bandage on his left bicep, and another bit of plaster on a bruising mark that traced one of his ribs.

“I’m fine,” he said. “The chirurgeons mended most everything. There’s just soreness now.”

“The water will help.” She drew her legs in to make room for him.

Once bare, Aymeric stared down at her. “You did not tell me you were going to the fight. I thought you had run off with Zenos.”

“He wanted to fight independent of any commanding officers.” This was true. She added: “As did I.”

He smiled and shook his head. “Well. At least tell me next time. Communication and all that.” 

“Of course. I’m sorry we went off in such a rush.”

Aymeric clasped her hands and carefully sunk into the warm water. He hissed softly as it coiled against his wounds. “All the same, I was glad to see you there. It would have been a much rougher day without your assistance.” Aymeric sighed and leaned against the porcelain. “Though, you were a bit terrifying.”

Summer Ruby chuckled. She knew that such a statement should be worrisome, but as she was now, it only felt like a compliment. “And Zenos?”

“I…” Aymeric dunked his head under the water, scrubbing his fingers through his hair. She waited, patient, knowing that he was stalling. When he surfaced he pushed back the slick black strands from his face. After another moment of thought, he swallowed and flashed a meager smile. “I am glad you had him there to fight at your side.”

“You were there, too,” she said.

“What?”

Summer Ruby closed her eyes, recalling what moments of the battle she could. It was mostly a blur of white and gray and black and red--more instinct of combat than anything that could be clearly recalled. That brutal dance--with she and Zenos guiding each other’s steps through their fledgling mental connection. She could still remember Aymeric being there, though. When she first approached the Imperial forces laying siege to the western gate of Camp Dragonhead, she had felt his gaze upon her. “You were fighting as well.”

Aymeric gave an embarrassed cough and fixed his gaze on the surface of the water. “Aye, but not to the same effect as you.”

“Nonsense. You were there. You stood with your knights. All Zenos and I did was ruin their spirits and break their toys.”

“You routed nearly half a cohort on your own.”

She rolled her shoulders in a shrug, and winced at a bit of soreness in the left side. “It was only fair that we pull our weight.”

Aymeric reached and touched her left shoulder. “Are you in pain?”

Summer Ruby laughed and shook her head. “No, I’m not injured. I just--it’s been a few months since I’ve fought that hard for that long.”

He rolled the weary flesh between his fingers, and she sighed pleasurably at the contact.

“This makes it worthwhile,” Aymeric murmured. “Ishgard secure again for another day, and you safe at my side.” His strong fingers dug into the sore spot on her shoulder.

She looked across the water at him, at the easy smile on his lips despite the exhaustion shading his eyes. “And I hope tomorrow is much the same.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.” She leaned in and pressed her lips to his forehead. “I intend on forcing you to sleep in.”


	44. Equilibrium

Summer Ruby paused as she navigated the avenue between home and the Firmament. The second bell after mid-day was chiming. She sighed.

“He’s going to be late.”

The sky overhead was cloudless and a brilliant eggshell blue. The sun gleaming down on Ishgard did little to actually warm the scene, but it was pleasant all the same, and it brought a smile to her lips. She smoothed the front of her coat and hurried on her way. Down in the Firmament business was as busy as ever, and Summer Ruby was stopped a few times to be greeted by various adventurers and workers. 

By the time she finally reached Zenos’ little abode in the new residential area, she already had sussed out that he was not at home. There was no fount of his aether lingering about, and one of his more gossipy neighbors had already reported during her approach that he had seen Zenos stepping out shortly after the mid-day bells. She went to the front door and stopped. She felt for her paramour, but located only the slightest hint of his aether lingering on the door lock itself. After a quick glance around, she knocked on the door.

Summer Ruby whispered: “Emet-Selch.”

After the span of a few breaths, she felt the flutter of the Ascian’s aether on the other side of the door.

“Is everything alright, my dearest?” Emet-Selch voice was low but cheerful. “You’re going to miss the party.”

“I’ll be back in time. Where is Zenos? I came here to fetch him, but he’s gone off somewhere. Too far away for me to sense his aether.”

She heard a faint hum through the dense wood. “Let me see…” A bit more humming followed. “Ah, there he is. Not terribly far out of the city proper. Near the cliffs north of the little fortress you and he fought to help protect a few weeks back.”

Summer Ruby wondered what Zenos was doing out there. “I see. Thank you, Emet-Selch.”

“Would you like me to send you to his location?”

She smiled and tapped her nails lightly on the smooth surface of the door. “No, I can ride out and find him easily enough. Just please tell Aymeric that I’m going, and I’ll be back soon enough?”

“Of course, my dearest. Safe travels.”

Irvine whistled cheerfully as he stomped over the frozen pack. The sun gleamed prettily over his glossy blue feathers, and for a few minutes of the ride Summer Ruby contented herself with just listening to the bird’s absentminded song. The pair were nearing the dark silhouette of the Steel Vigil when the chocobo slowed to a stop and let out an irritated wark. He stooped and toed at the snow. Looking down, Summer Ruby saw that a set of heavy footprints started just ahead of them, and veered off slightly to the west. Irvine trilled menacingly at the footprints. That was really all the confirmation she needed that they were heading the right way.

She felt Zenos before she saw him, the faint haze of his familiar warmth, and the way the world seemed to grow more cold and quiet in his presence. Summer Ruby stopped her chocobo before they came too close and told him to wait. The big bird clattered his beak as she dismounted and started in the direction of the overlook. The trail of Zenos’ aether grew denser as she approached, and then there was an excited spark of it when her presence was realized. It threw itself upon her like a puppy made of aether.

Zenos was kneeling in the snow, a royal blue cloak draped over his black armor. Despite the eager state of his aether, the big man was motionless, back to her. 

She called out: “My friend.”

His head jerked slightly, and she was aware of his energy being reeled back in, before presenting itself to her again in a more controlled state. Zenos smoothly pushed to his feet and turned to face her. He looked somber, but she was not fooled by the look. 

“My friend.” He held out a gloved hand. “My love, what are you doing out here?”

Summer Ruby paced closer and took his hand. “I could ask much the same of you, Zenos. I went to go get you since it’s already past the second bell, but you were not home.”

His dark lashes fluttered in a surprised blink. “Is it that late already? My apologies.”

“I’m not upset.” She smiled. “I know you get lost in your thoughts.” He made an agreeing noise, fingers squeezing hers.

Summer Ruby looked beyond him, to Haurchefant’s grave. It had been swept clean of snow, and a bundle of Shroud lilies rested at its base. The bright purple flowers were brilliant in the afternoon sunshine. She looked at Zenos, who had not taken his gaze from her.

“You brought him flowers?”

“I…” Zenos’ posture stiffened, and he turned to where he had been kneeling. “Yes.”

She smiled and knelt in front of the grave. “They’re beautiful flowers, Zenos.”

The Garlean tipped his head to the side and scratched at his temple. “I thought so, too.”

“I must admit, though, I am surprised. You’re not the sort to offer such sentiment to people, especially a stranger.”

His long fingers curled in the dark wool of his cloak. “I felt a… compulsion. That I should return to this place and thank the man.” Zenos lowered his eyes. “For saving you.”

“Ah, a bit of selfish gratitude.”

He scoffed, a hint of pink dusting his pale cheeks. “Of course.” Zenos cleared his throat and smoothed down the front of his cloak before crossing his arms. “Had he not acted so foolishly, I might never have had the chance to meet you in this lifetime.”

Summer Ruby smiled and shook her head. “You could have phrased that a bit more kindly, but, yes. You’re right.”

“I was phrasing it kindly,” he said dryly. “Love makes men do foolish things.”

She peered up at him. “Even you, Zenos Galvus?”

For a long moment he gazed unblinkingly at her. Then: “Now that I have become ensnared by its charms, especially me.”

“As long as you’re aware of the fact.”

“My powers of observation have not yet failed me.”

Summer Ruby reached and brushed her fingers over the purple flowers. “Tell me something, my dear conflux.”

“Hm?”

“In your memories, in Rigel’s memories, do you remember mention of a man named Hythlodaeus?”

Zenos hummed thoughtfully. His aether grew still as he reflected. “I must admit having had only a passing interest in your friends beyond the old man, but yes. Here and there, more in the earlier years. Persephone… you were partnered with him for a few decades when you were younger, but it wasn’t anything serious. A jovial sort of fellow--you told me a few stories of how you and he used to get into trouble, though I don’t recall the specific details.” Another thoughtful hum. “He had the same gift as the old man, the soul sight. But… that is about the sum total of what I can remember. I do not believe I ever met the man in person.”

“I don’t think you would have cause to, no.”

“Why do you ask?”

She traced the name carved into the heavy stone. “Just curious.” Her memories roiled for a moment, and she was unable to suppress a pair of memories--the same man, ages apart, throwing himself in harm’s way to save her life--folding over each other in the forefront of her mind. She squeezed her eyes shut.

 _Someday, I will thank you for your foolishness, Hythlodaeus. And then, I am going to smack you, my dear old friend_.

She opened her eyes and gave the flowers another look. Shroud lilies--noble flowers for a noble soul. She smiled. Summer Ruby stood and took a few steps back, nearly bumping into Zenos. She turned to him.

Zenos stared down at her. His face was etched into a fond, gentle smile. It was a look she saw in her dreams some nights, when ancient memories fluttered to the surface. She rather liked the look on Zenos Galvus. It set her soul at peace just as readily as a battle-hungry grin sent her pulse racing. It was a placid look that only graced his countenance when they were alone. She was no fool--she was well aware that Zenos’ only concern in the world was her. The rest was circumstantial at best.

But, she was the Warrior of Light. She could handle that.

He hummed and touched a warm hand to her cheek. “I thought you were in a rush to return to the manor. What in your thoughts has you staying?”

She blinked. “Oh, I was just--just wondering what you were going to do now, since your hunt has ended.”

Zenos arched a brow. “Has it?” He seemed untroubled by her change in subject.

“I would say so. You have successfully caught your prey.” She smirked playfully at him. “I could not have asked for a better hunter.”

His cheeks pinked anew. “Do you really think so?”

A laugh tickled at her throat. “I do, my friend.”

Zenos beamed. “My _friend_.” His thumb traced an arc over her cheekbone. “My beloved Aesta.”

“My dear Zenos.” She smiled, taking his hand from her face and starting the walk to her chocobo. For a moment she considered how things had changed between them since the last time they had both stood on these snows. This gave her pause, as she was not certain how much either of them had really changed as people. She knew that, despite all his affection for her, Zenos still struggled with the rest of the world.

“Now.” She stopped and swung their hands. “Is there anything you need to get out of your system before we return to Ishgard?”

The Garlean considered her query for a moment. Then: “Just one thing.”

Summer Ruby nodded. “Go ahead.”

Zenos hooked his free hand along the base of her spine and half bent her over as his lips snagged her smile and captured it for a kiss. She felt his aether greet hers, twisting together in a fashion that was both ancient and comforting and still a little new and overwhelming. She clung to his coat.

When he was done, Zenos righted them both. His cheeks were crimson, and her own glowed equally hot against the cool of the afternoon. His forehead pressed to hers, and his chuckle rumbled against her chest.

“Good now? Ready to act like a nice, boring, _normal_ person who isn’t going to bring a weapon to a nameday party?”

His lips pursed into a playful pout. “I suppose I can manage that act for a bit. But, you owe me.”

She kissed Zenos’ cheek. “Of course I do.”

Summer Ruby returned to Ishgard alone. Zenos claimed a need to grab something from his home, and portaled away before she could make any protest. It was for the best--she knew Irvine would have been irritated had Zenos gotten too close to him. As it was, the bird was a bit huffy on the ride back to the city, and seemed glad to be left in the stables before Summer Ruby hurried back home.

The smell of cinnamon and other spices met her nose when she opened the door, letting her know that the baked sweets for the nameday celebration must have recently come out of the ovens. She made an approving noise as she closed the front door.

Aymeric poked his head out of the dining hall at the sound of her return. He heaved an exasperated sigh and hurried down the hall to her.

“Thank Halone you have returned,” he said. Aymeric gave her a swift kiss before helping her out of her coat. “Alisaie arrived while you were out fetching Zenos--” He paused, looking behind her. “You were fetching Zenos, yes?”

“He’ll be along shortly.”

“Ah. Well, Alisaie arrived, and has been in the dining hall exchanging barbs with Emet-Selch for the last half-bell. And while Estinien finds it hilarious, I found it rather tiresome after the first five or six minutes.”

“I’m sorry, dear.” Summer Ruby tried to imagine the taciturn dragoon finding anything amusing enough to laugh at, but came up short. “At least he seems to understand that he is not to instigate anything.”

“And Zenos?”

She ran her hands over the dark blue fabric of her dress. “He understands.” She smiled at Aymeric. “He will behave for me.”

Her husband sighed again. “If only you exhibited such a positive influence on the Ascian. He was civil enough with Estinien and I, but as soon as Alisaie entered the room it was as though someone flipped a lever in his brain and he turned into a schoolyard bully.”

“Yes, well. That’s Emet-Selch for you.” She pulled on a pair of slippers and made her way down the hall. Summer Ruby pushed the door open.

“--cross that I make a more charming and attractive Elezen than you do.” Emet-Selch was brandishing an empty wine glass at the young Scion. Alisaie was gripping a fork--the source of which was a mystery as the table had not yet been set.

Summer Ruby strode into the dining hall and plucked the utensil from the Elezen’s hand. “Alisaie, sweetheart, it’s so good to see you! I’m so happy you came to Merle’s party!”

Alisaie made a soft noise of protest at her disarmament, but settled for accepting a hug from the Warrior of Light. “Of course I did, even if you let the old rabble show up.”

“You shouldn’t let her talk about you like that,” Emet-Selch said in Estinien’s direction.

Summer Ruby ignored him and kept her focus on Alisaie. “Just you, though? I thought I made the invitation clear…”

“You did, just…” Alisaie pursed her lips and looked away. “Everyone else was busy.”

“Oh. I see.” Summer Ruby sighed and stepped away. “Well, I’m still glad that you’re here.”

“I could do well enough without him being here, though.” She jerked her chin in Emet-Selch’s direction. “Why is he here? And why does he look like that?”

“That is just a glamour that he wears out in _public_.” She rubbed her fingers together at the Ascian, who rolled his eyes. He snapped his fingers, and the glamour faded, leaving his Garlean visage in its place. At the other end of the table, Estinien made a surprised noise and peered into his nearly empty glass. “And Emet-Selch is my friend, Alisaie. You know that.”

The girl wrinkled her nose. “Oh, I know. Just give me about, I don’t know, forty or fifty years, and his presence might cease to be grating.”

“I am spending my precious holiday time _here_ , instead of napping under an umbrella on a beach in Vylbrand, and you just keep on persecuting me!” Emet-Selch picked up a bottle of wine and refilled his glass.

Summer Ruby waggled the fork between the Ascian and the Scion. “Zenos will be here soon, and I would appreciate it if you could just continue being so very incredibly civil.”

“What if he tries to start a fight?” Alisaie asked.

“He won’t. I told him not to, and he actually listens to me.”

“Twelve forefend,” the girl muttered. “It’s probably for the best that I couldn’t convince anyone else to come along to the party. Why didn’t you have two parties? One for your good friends and one for, you know… The ones of more questionable merit.”

Summer Ruby shook her head. She knew Alisaie was trying to be polite while complaining, but the girl still needed a few more years of practice before she really got the hang of it. “Because, the ones of ‘questionable merit’ are important to me, too.” She looked at Alisaie. “Aymeric and I are having dinner at House Fortemps tonight, Alisaie. You’re more than welcome to come along.”

“If none of your former enemies are going to be in attendance, then I believe I can accept the invitation.”

She smiled. “Good.” Summer Ruby turned to look at Emet-Selch. He was watching her over the lip of his glass. “You good?”

“Oh, yes, my dear.” He flashed a lazy grin. “I’d nearly forgotten how enjoyable it was to watch you mother people. The greatest nag in all of Amaurot.” She felt his aether, cool and friendly, tickle against her palm. Summer Ruby leaned in and pressed her lips to the skin next to his third eye.

“Be nice or I’ll make Zenos sit next to you.”

He batted his eyelashes at her. “I’ll be an absolute _saint_ , my dear.”

She patted his cheek before stepping away. “I’m sure you will.” She looked to the doorway. “I should probably go and check on--”

“I’m so sorry!” A voice echoed down the hallway. Alisaie’s brows drew together at the voice, and she turned to look as Summer Ruby pulled the door open.

“Alphinaud?”

The young Elezen clutched at the front of his coat as he caught his breath. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it was today!” He noticed his sister. “Alisaie! You didn’t tell me it was today!”

“Of course I did--I told you where I was going when I left!” She huffed. “And you said ‘yes, alright, I hope you have fun’.”

“It’s okay if you changed your mind, Alphinaud,” Summer Ruby said gently. “We’re glad to have you here.” She looked behind the boy, where Aymeric was standing with Merle in his arms. “Isn’t that right, dear?”

“The more the merrier,” her husband said cheerfully as he toted the child into the dining hall. “‘Tis already more cordial a gathering than the usual meeting between the Lords and the Commons.” He settled Merle into his high chair. The infant let out a polite little squeal of delight and slapped his palms on the carved wood.

Summer Ruby gestured at a chair near where Estinien was seated. “You can sit over on that side of the table.” 

“Estinien!” Alphinaud did not mask his surprise. “You’re back in Ishgard?”

The dragoon grunted softly as he set down his glass. “Of course I am. I’m not going to miss my godson’s first nameday.”

Alphinaud looked at the little elf, and then at his father. “You made _Estinien_ the godfather of your child?”

Aymeric blinked down at him. “Of course we did.”

Estinien huffed. “And what’s that supposed to mean, you little brat?” He grabbed the younger man in a half-hug and aggressively ruffled his hair.

“Oh, no--it’s a fine choice, a fine choice!” Alphinaud made an embarrassed noise as he was deposited in the adjacent chair. His cheeks darkened at the sound of his sister’s laughter. “I was just surprised, that’s all!”

“Estinien is a brave and noble soul, and a dear friend to Aymeric and I both.” She nodded toward the dragoon. “He was a natural choice.”

Aymeric smiled. “Well said, love.” 

Summer Ruby caught the slight flick of Emet-Selch’s gaze toward the hallway, just before she felt a shift in the ambient aether. It was followed by the familiar surge of aether that accompanied Zenos’ arrival in the manor.

She thought to him: “ _Aymeric is going to become cross with you if you keep refusing to use the front doors_.”

“ _The front doors are boring_ ,” was the vaguely petulant reply.

“Our last guest has arrived,” she announced to the room as she returned to the dining hall door. She peeked out the door to make sure Zenos was presentable before letting him in. He was, clad in a dark blue dress coat over a black tunic and trousers. He held a small paper-wrapped package in his hands.

Zenos smiled warmly at her. “Greetings, Lady Borel.” He pressed his lips quickly to her cheek before she pulled the door the rest of the way open.

“Welcome to the party, Lord Galvus.”

Summer Ruby watched Zenos’ face as he took in the occupants of the dining hall. His frown at Emet-Selch was brief, and the elder pretended not to see him standing there. Zenos and Estinien shared mutual impassive jerks of the chin at each other before he moved on to look at Alphinaud. He stared at the boy for what seemed like an unusually lengthy amount of time to Summer Ruby, and then looked to Alisaie. After looking back to Alphinaud, he made a soft noise of realization.

“Oh. They’re twins.”

“You knew that, Zenos,” Summer Ruby said. He looked at her and shrugged.

“Did I?” He did not wait for a response before moving down the side of the table. Little Merle burbled happily and waved his little hands as the Garlean approached, and did not lower them until Zenos had quietly ruffled his mess of black hair.

“Well, would you look at that,” Emet-Selch said, tone bordering snide. “The baby likes you, boy.”

“What makes you think that?” Alisaie wondered. The Ascian glanced at her.

“It’s what the child said.” He waved a hand. “I speak infant.”

“You do not.” She looked at Merle, who was contentedly trying to gnaw on Zenos’ pinky finger. “What does he think about me?”

Emet-Selch smirked. “He didn’t say.”

“My apologies for being late,” said Zenos. He held the small, palm sized parcel out to Aymeric. “I had to go get his nameday present.”

“Now, Zenos, you _are_ aware that they don’t give weapons as gifts in Ishgard, aren’t you?” Emet-Selch shifted the focus of his smirk to his great-grandson. Zenos huffed softly as a worried look appeared on Aymeric’s face.

“‘Tis not a weapon, old man. You needn’t be so callous.”

Aymeric cleared his throat: “It’s nothing dangerous, then?” For a moment, Zenos silently met his gaze. Then he shook his head.

“As long as it isn’t used as a projectile.”

“Oh, well.” He looked down at Merle. “No throwing your gifts.” The little Elezen released his hold on Zenos’ finger to laugh and clap.

“Go ahead and open it, dear,” Summer Ruby said. She was curious as to just what sort of present the Garlean had procured. 

Aymeric nodded and pulled loose the little bow that had been folded into the length of twine, and then carefully unfolded the plain brown paper that had been used to wrap the gift. Inside was a piece of wood, about the size of a chicken’s egg, carved into the shape of an animal and painted white. He held it up to his face.

“It’s a moogle,” he said. Aymeric glanced at Zenos. “You made this?”

The Garlean crossed his arms and nodded. “I did.”

Summer Ruby looked at the little figurine--it did in fact look like a round little moogle, with squinty eyes and tiny paws and wings, and a little lump of a pom-pom on the top of its head that had been painted an off shade of red.

“It’s adorable,” she said with a smile. “And certainly anything better than I could hope to manage.”

“It’s very cute, but when have you ever seen a moogle?” Alisaie asked. Zenos grunted.

“There is a whole colony of them living in the Churning Mists. I came across them while out hunting a few months ago.”

The young woman bristled. “You didn’t--!”

He shrugged. “One of them challenged me to a test of strength, but I declined.” His pale eyes cut over to where Emet-Selch was lounging. “Once upon a time, my great-grandsire warned me against getting involved with the fae folk. Said any reward I might receive was not worth the trouble.”

Summer Ruby snorted, and she heard the amused noise echo almost immediately from her husband. Alisaie grinned.

“Aye, well at least your great-grandfather said _something_ intelligent now and then.”

“I’m not deaf!” Emet-Selch groused softly.

“Now, now. Be nice.” She gently took the little moogle from her husband and held it to Emet-Selch. “See? Isn’t it lovely?”

The Ascian flashed her a sour look at having the thing shoved in his face, but after a moment of peering at it, the corner of his mouth pulled upwards. “It is well made, yes. There is a clear attention to detail. The artist should be commended.”

Alphinaud looked over Emet-Selch’s shoulder, and then over to Zenos. “When did you learn to do carvings?”

Zenos looked away from the gathering. “I can’t say I remember.”

“Well, I’m suitably impressed.”

Summer Ruby smiled. “Thank you, Zenos.”

He mumbled: “Yes, yes, you’re welcome.” She noticed a hint of pink on his cheeks as he angled himself away from the table. She felt his aether brush against her arm, and when hers brushed back the color on his cheeks darkened.

Summer Ruby set the moogle in front of her son. “Look, Merle, Uncle Zenos has brought you a present. Isn’t it lovely? Perhaps one day when you’re older we’ll take you to see the moogles.”

The little elf stared down at the carving, dark eyes wide. He reached out his chubby fingers and very delicately patted the figure on its little red pom-pom, but made no further move to pick it up.

“Doesn’t he like it?” Alphinaud whispered.

“The boy is wise enough to know already what trouble the little flying rats can be,” Estinien muttered from his seat.

Aymeric flashed a placating smile at the Garlean. “It is a lovely gift, Zenos. Thank you.” He retrieved a glass of wine from the table. “Well, then. Since everyone is here, why don’t we get this party underway?”

Glasses were filled for the rest of those in attendance, and then attention returned to the Lord Commander.

Aymeric peered into his glass for a moment before raising it. “I want to thank you all, then, for coming here today. For joining in celebration of a young life, one that hopefully grows up knowing better peace than any of us have. It makes me…” He trailed off, and Summer Ruby felt a pang of concern at the sheen of tears in his eyes. “It makes me glad to have family to share this with.”

“Here here,” Estinien said in a soft grunt. The twins made noises of agreement. Summer Ruby touched her husband’s sleeve, and he looked at her, blinking rapidly to clear his eyes.

“Very well said, love.” She took a sip of her wine and looked across the table. Emet-Selch was staring into his glass, a thoughtful wrinkle between his brows. At her side, Zenos was silent, mind caught up on a too-literal dissection on the meaning of the word ‘family’ in Aymeric’s invocation. “I think it’s about time for the cakes, then?”

Her husband nodded, rubbing the heel of his palm to the corner of his eye as he turned in the direction of the kitchen. “Oh, yes, let me alert the steward.”

The party was a simple affair. They ate sweet cakes and drank warm mulled wine, laughing as little Merle managed to smear most of his nameday treat on his face and high chair. They chatted and shared stories, mostly anecdotes about little Merle as they had few cheerful childhood stories of their own to share.

And when the wine and sweets were done, the festivities ended.

Estinien was the first to depart, promising to visit again later when things had quieted down. Neither Summer Ruby or Aymeric tried to stop him--they both knew how uncomfortable he could get in larger gatherings, even among friends. The twins left next, heading to Fortemps Manor to visit for a spell before the Borels followed for dinner.

Aymeric took Merle to the washroom to clean up the infant’s face, and Summer Ruby was left with the last two guests.

“Thank you both for coming,” she said, looking between the Ascian and the Garlean. Zenos was leaning against the wall and focusing on the fireplace, staunchly trying to pretend that Emet-Selch wasn’t there. “And behaving.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Emet-Selch sighed as he took her hands and pulled her into a hug. “You know I was teasing them, don’t you? I cannot help myself. They’re so serious; they make it too easy for me.”

She gave him a squeeze. “I know. Thank you, Hades.” She pulled away and looked down at him, taking in his fond smile. “Where are you off to?”

“I _told_ you, Percy. Vylbrand. There’s a blanket and an umbrella and a little fruity drink waiting for me.” His lips pulled into a smirk, and his shoulders shook with a laugh. “Half the fun is watching the wait staff be uncomfortable by how overdressed I am. They’re too used to the proper letches that go there to deal with an old man that just wants to take a nice warm nap in the shade.”

Summer Ruby laughed and shook her head. “Keep them on their toes, I suppose.” She kissed his cheek. “You’ll stop by before you go to see Elidibus, won’t you?”

“Of course, dear.” He pinched her chin lightly between his gloved fingers. “Call me if you need me.”

She smiled. “I will.”

Emet-Selch stepped away and waved a portal open behind him. He cast a look over to Zenos, but said nothing before curling his hand in a cheerful wave at Summer Ruby and departing.

“I’m surprised he didn’t insist on telling the story of how I cried at my first nameday party,” said Zenos once the portal had snapped shut. “He always wanted to tell that story before.” He pushed away from the wall and approached her.

She chuckled. “You cried at your nameday party? Isn’t that bad luck?”

“Not in Garlemald. In Garlemald it’s just something for your great-grandsire to pick on you about for the next twenty-odd years.” A soft breath of a sigh escaped him as he hooked his arms around her and pressed his nose between her ears. “That was exhausting.”

Summer Ruby stroked her fingers through his long hair, enjoying the warmth of his aether. She could feel a flutter of disturbance under the surface, a touch of irritation at having to be civil for an hour, but already it was calming. “You did well. I appreciate your effort.”

“Mm.” He grunted softly. “I am going to return home and sleep.” Zenos pulled away and looked down at her, his expression somber. “Is that alright with you?”

“Of course, my friend. You do not need my permission to sleep.” She smiled and pressed his cheeks between her hands. “How about tomorrow afternoon we do a bit of sparring at the Congregation? It always gets a rise out of the knights.”

His smile was a shy thing. “I would like that.”

“Good.” She rose up on her toes and kissed him, soft and sweet. “I’ll have Aymeric set aside an hour for us.”

“Just for us, and the adoring crowd.”

She smiled. “That’s right.”

He kissed her, a chaste echo of the first. “I will look forward to it.”

“I know you will.” Summer Ruby patted his cheeks and took a step away. “Good night, Zenos.”

He smiled. “Good night, Aesta.”

With the last of the party guests gone into the evening, Summer Ruby made her way to the master bedroom. There she found Aymeric running a comb through their son’s hair in a mostly vain attempt to tame it into something presentable.

“Ah, what do we have here?” Summer Ruby said. “Two handsome gentlemen, waiting just for me.”

Aymeric sighed as Merle’s chubby fingers grasped hold of the comb and nearly tugged it free from his grip. “Ah, there’s Mama. I’ll ask her.” He released the comb to the baby’s control. “What do you think, Mama, should we just put a bonnet on him so he doesn’t have to worry about his hair being mussed?”

She laughed and plucked the comb free before it reached the baby’s mouth. “It’s probably for the best, it will be cold when we come home and we don’t need any little ears freezing off.”

Merle burbled in a disagreeing tone and kicked his feet.

“His socks don’t match,” she noted. Aymeric sighed.

“I will have you know that wearing one brown sock and one green sock is very fashionable among infants these days.”

“Muh,” Merle grunted in assent.

“Well, I can’t really disagree with that kind of argument.” She smiled at them.

“I cleaned him up, changed his diaper, put on a fresh tunic, put him in his cloak, and tried with the socks, but…” Aymeric shrugged. “I know a losing argument when I get into one.”

Summer Ruby scooped up her son. “You did very well, all things considered. I can scarcely get him into socks at all.”

Aymeric grinned and covered her hand with his own. “Well, socks do require a man’s touch.”

They both chuckled.

“Mm, I like this,” said Aymeric in a low voice. His thumb stroked over the back of her hand. “I like having you here, home with me. With us.”

She thought of her deal with Elidibus.

A hundred years.

“And I am happy for the time to be here with you.” Summer Ruby leaned and pressed a kiss to his forehead. Merle grumped in protest, and she laughed and lifted him to press a kiss to his forehead as well. “We should get moving. I’d hate to keep the others waiting on us for dinner.”

“They won’t mind waiting on the guest of honor when he’s so cute.”

She smirked mischievously. “Alisaie might. She’s the sort to begrudge a baby for her hunger pangs.”

They made their way to the front doors, each taking a turn holding Merle while the other put their boots and coat on. Aymeric let the steward know they were departing for the evening, and then held open the front door for his wife.

The Warrior of Light stood upon the front steps of her home in Ishgard, and tilted her head back to look at the sky as the sun burned it through the last of its evening colors.

She smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we have reached the end of _The Hellsguard Hare_! Thank you so much for reading, and for all your lovely comments over the last half-year. This was a weird ride, and I appreciate those of you who stuck it out to the end. (Or those who just got here. You’re cool, too.)  
> While this is the end of the main story, it is likely not the last thing I will write related to Summer Ruby and all her hangers-on. There is so much more to cover with them, past and future, but those are one-shots for another day. 
> 
> If you’re super bored, you can check out _[A Gentleman of Garlemald](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24187300/chapters/58258099)_ , if you haven’t already. It’s a… fluffy Varis/WoL AU thing. Totally different from HH. 
> 
> Thanks again.


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